


The Frost Prince

by sifshadowheart



Series: Frey of Asgard [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Court Politics, F/M, Frey Does What He Wants, Frey Is Even More Over Odin's Shit, Frey Is So Not A Babysitter, Frey Is So Over Thor's Shit, Gen, Implied Relationships, Implied Thanos Involvement, Loki Does What He Wants, M/M, Mythology - Freeform, Odin's A+ Parenting, Past Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-01-21 16:39:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 48,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12461715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sifshadowheart/pseuds/sifshadowheart
Summary: Re-imagined events of Thor in the Frey of Asgard universe.





	1. The Story Thus Far

** Frey of Asgard: **

**_ The Story Thus Far… _ **

**_Lokison_ :**  In _Lokison_ we were introduced to Thanatos, the Greek god and Avatar of Death in the Harry Potter/Percy Jackson universe which is the “core-universe” ruled by the Greek Pantheon.  It is discovered that Loki of the Norse/Yggdrasil Pantheon is known/worshipped by those in the Greek-ruled universe due to his travels and that he is one of Harry’s three (or four it’s a little muddled depending on how you look at it) parents.  Harry’s name was shown to be Frey Haraldr Lokison in official documents but he publicly goes by either simply Frey while being raised by either Chiron or one of Thanatos’s handmaidens at Camp Half-Blood following the murder of James and Lily Potter.  Loki is active in the raising of Frey, including using a version of time-magic that allows them to spend extra time together when the God of Mischief and Chaos and Avatar of Magic can escape his duties on Asgard.

Frey is trained to be a half-blood hero who those at Camp believe is some sort of legacy of Thanatos, Frey having never been officially claimed due to issues of territory with Frey being the son of an Yggdrasil god rather than an Olympian-based god.

Upon turning eleven, Frey as “Harry James Potter” is expected to attend Hogwarts as part of the agreement that was in place between Loki (as the granting god) and James/Lily Potter and the Potter patron Thanatos.  This agreement carried other clauses which included Frey being responsible for utilizing a ritual which will grant him heirs for each of his wizarding bloodlines that Thanatos helped bestow on him as he barely carries any of James’s blood outside that of a blood-adoption-type ritual.

Frey has a variety of adventures and eventually is given a quest by Thanatos to hunt down the Horcruxes upon the completion of which he would be considered fully an adult and warrior by Greek standards, a quest which is complicated by the expectation that he “harvest” the final piece of Voldemort’s soul – his shade which lingers on the mortal plane.

He makes friends, has lovers and affairs, and eventually both completes his quest and saves the wizarding world, while still adventuring with his Half-Blood friends during the summers, becoming entangled in the Percy Jackson storyline during which he assists Percy with several of his quests.

Throughout much of his school and heroic career, Frey (as Harry) is watched by both Olympus and Asgard, the latter of which make him their sort-of unofficial mascot, spending a lot of time watching over and betting on his adventures.  Loki is somewhat envied by his fellow Asgardians as it becomes clear that Frey/Harry has followed in his father/James’s footsteps and gives homage to the Trickster-god.  The only exception of which is his tendency to honor his guardian Thanatos and a single offering to Frigga of the untainted/cleansed Ravenclaw’s diadem.

In time, Frey has several children with one of his main lovers, and with the spellwork of the contracted ritual, has two sons and a daughter who are purely each of their Lines, a wholly-Peverell son, a Black son, and a Potter daughter whose husband/lover will be expected to give up their name for hers when the time comes.

Frey has doubts and reservations over his anticipated ascension and becoming fully-immortal, which was his destiny from the moment of his conception, as a result by the end of _Lokison_ he has yet to claim his godly heritage and rights.  To that end, he declines the instant-boost offered by Zeus as his reward for his part in the defeat of Kronus, choosing instead to secure the safety of his children and their descendants for as long as they exist within the realms controlled by Olympus.  An important protection that he was keen to acquire, as he knew it was only a matter of time before he is unearthed as Loki’s son and he feared what Odin might do to his children and descendants if they didn’t have the patronage of an equally-powerful pantheon as that of Yggdrasil.

 ** _Doors of Death:_   **At the beginning of _DoD_ , we see Frey have a nightmare before venturing off to Malfoy Manor, playing, teaching, and training his children with his former-lover and co-parent as well as his former-lover’s husband and their own two children.  Due to the ritual and agreements involved in his children’s birth, he knows that he has a limited number of years to spend with them, as they were created to be purely-wizarding without any introduction of his divine heritage.  He mentions to his father Loki that two hundred years seemed like forever and merely an instant all at the same time, the expected lifespan of his children.

A messenger arrives in the form of Frey’s former nanny/caretaker/guardian Heidi, a captain among Thanatos’s Harvestmaidens, who informs the godling that his guardian and the patron of the Potter and Peverell Houses was missing and had been for some time.

There’s a scene-change to Percy and Annabeth in the depths of Tartarus, finally finding both the Doors of Death which will allow them to escape the Pit as well as the chained and bound form of Thanatos, the Greek god and Avatar of Death, both of which were being guarded by Titans who Frey had previously slain during the events of _Lokison,_ at times with the help of Percy, Luke, or others.

Before Percy and Annabeth could develop a plan, they are interrupted by the arrival of Frey with the whole host of the Harvest warriors both the Harvestmaidens and Harvestmen/shadow warriors who serve Thanatos in his aspect as the Harvest Lord.

The two half-bloods join the battle and eventually Frey sends the two Titans to a final death, as happens to all souls who are slain in the depths of Tartarus, freeing Thanatos.  Percy and Annabeth escape at the insistence of the Harvest Lord, arriving at the House of Hades and joining a new battle.

Frey, once more a hero though this time with a much lesser role, returns to his home in England with the thanks and gratitude of Olympus, only due to issues with his ever-growing power, takes a detour and hides in the wreckage of Godric’s Hollow, where he is in turn comforted and confronted by Thanatos over his hesitation at taking on his destiny which is causing him problems in controlling his powers.  After a discussion where Thanatos confirms that Frey is in fact the Master of Death, Thanatos gives Frey some advice on accepting and using his powers to help keep them under control after several near-outings in battles against Titans.

 ** _Never Piss off a Witch-Goddess:_** During the events of _DoD_ , Calypso, the powerful daughter of Atlas, one of the Titans Frey had given a final death after slaying him once before, is freed from her imprisonment on Ogygia by her lover Leo Valdez, a half-blood.  Prevented from smiting Frey out-right as he was high in the favor of Zeus and the Olympians, she instead concocts another scheme: sending him to a distant universe with the help of a “bleed-through”, and echo in another universe with similar powers – though often weaker – than the “Core” being in the core universe of that type.  Frey wakes from an ominous confrontation with the angry goddess to find himself in a strange place, facing a very strange woman – one Calypso unlike any he’d heard of before.

Set both before and during the Pirates of the Caribbean movies, most of the story takes place during “At World’s End.”

Frey spends many long years trapped on an abandoned island in the “doldrums” between the Living world and that of the Dead, until he makes the acquaintance of a spurned Davy Jones…and tells him of a way to get revenge.

Years later, and still trapped, Captain Barbosa and Co. arrive on a mission to rescue Captain Jack Sparrow from the Locker – and Frey strikes a bargain with Tia Dalma, her freedom in exchange for his own.

Frey eventually escapes – but not without going more than a little mad, leading to him spending quite a bit of him with his father Loki in the guise of a female mind-healer when he finally returns home.

 ** _That was Tingly:_**   Several years after the events of _DoD_ , Frey had reached his peak of physical ability and maturity, an event which heralds a godling “freezing” into their immortality otherwise known as when they stop aging and becoming various degrees of hard-to-impossible to kill.  Frey undergoes his “freezing” and discussed the need for further training with his father, which occurs in the companion-series to _Frey of Asgard_ , called _How to Train Your Godling_ which is not a required read to understand the events of the _Frey of Asgard_ universe.

 ** _How to Train Your Godling:_** With Frey now immortal, Loki take him on a series of “training” adventures to teach him how to use or control his powers.  Series of one-shots set in various fictional universes, including _The Tudors, Fast and Furious, Eragon, A Song of Ice and Fire, etc._   Mostly just a fun series of adventures and misadventures with Frey and Loki, but some serious points that will show up later in the Frey of Asgard series but won’t kill your understanding of events if you don’t read them…especially as at the time of posting the first chapter of the _Frost Prince_ , I’ve only uploaded the first installment.

 


	2. One: Ancient Family History

** The Frost Prince **

**_A Frey of Asgard Story_ **

Author’s Note: Welcome to _The Frost Prince_.  This is the main continuation of _Lokison_ , covering pre-Thor and Thor events, including bridging a bit of the time-gap between Thor and Avengers.  There is a short novella-type story that I’ve dubbed number 1.5 in this series called the _Doors of Death_ but it really doesn’t apply to this and the other stories that crossover into the MCU, as it is a brief dip into the action of the _Heroes of Olympus_ series, _DoD_ takes place in the time-gap between _Lokison_ and _The Frost Prince,_ as does the one-shot _That was Tingly,_ which covers Frey becoming immortal when he reaches his mid-twenties, _Never Piss off a Witch-Goddess_ which covers a side-adventure of Frey’s, and _How to Train Your Godling_ which is a series of one-shots that can be basically summed up as Frey and Loki shenanigans and is currently on-going.

 **Read Me:**   There is a time gap of approximately ten years between the end of _Lokison_ and the events of _The Frost Prince_.  This is about the same amount of time between the end of the HP series and the events of Thor, however I play with the idea of time displacement issues between the different universes and dimensions A LOT in the next several stories.  Frey’s kids (if you’re wondering) are about fourteen, entering Fourth Year at Hogwarts.

 **Disclaimer:**   As always, this is a work of fanfiction, all characters and story elements that are not original belong to their various writers and companies, including but not limited to Marvel Comics and FOX.

_“Some say the world will end in fire,_

_Some say in ice._

_From what I’ve tasted of desire_

_I hold with those who favor fire._

_But if it had to perish twice,_

_I think I know enough of hate_

_To say that for destruction ice_

_Is also great_

_And would suffice.”_

― Robert Frost, The Poetry of Robert Frost

** The Frost Prince **

**Chapter One – Ancient (Family) History**

_Royal Palace, Jotunheim, 1077 years after the end of the Jotnar-Aesir war_

Jotunheim was fucking cold.

That was Frey’s considered and educated opinion after visiting there off-and-on for the last fifteen or so years, including a most _memorable_ period served in training with the Jotnar army.

Some regions were more frigid than others – the ruined citadel and temples at Utgaard near the Bifrost site were near-frostbite inducing year-round and instant-frostbite inducing in the coldest months as it was on the southern-most continent where the northern climes tended to be more stable – like comparing Alaska to the Antarctic pole.

But if you were Jotnar, even just half like Frey, then it was as comfortable as a warm bath no matter where on the planet you roamed.

Eyeing his light-blue hand with an amused smirk, Frey laughed to himself as he trudged through the dark forests surrounding the Winter Hold, the ancient seat of the House of Ymir and the palace of the Jotnar Kings.

Which was funny, because if you asked any soul _not_ of Jotunheim or educated by the Jotnar, they would tell you that Utgaard, which had been laid to ruins by the Aesir-Jotnar wars, was the capitol of the realm.  A small falsehood that paid massive dividends when Odin with his “All-Seeing” gatekeeper and peeping-tom crows Hugin and Munin attacked the southern fortress instead of the hidden palace.  The Aesir armies had sacked and pillaged most of the lands surrounding Utgaard as well – but the bulk of their people had been hidden in the safety of the “wild and dangerous” northern lands.

Frey was always highly entertained by that bit of trickery on the part of the Jotnar, though after the treachery of Ymir’s murder, they had never had a reason to share their secrets with outside races again, even less so after Bor son of Buri kidnapped, raped, and forcibly wed Bestla who was a Jotun of Ymir’s line making Odin a kinslayer.

If most of those from his early years on one of the worlds controlled by the Olympian pantheon were to ever see him in his Jotun form, none would likely recognize him much like the Aesir would have difficulty seeing Loki through the guise of blue skin and ruby eyes.  Their features were both much the same, with Loki having more of a sapphire-blue skin and bright ruby eyes while Frey was lighter, more aquamarine with the same dark ruby eyes as his grandbera Laufey.  Etched into their skin were the other differences – and similarities – between the two.  For while both had markings declaring them of the House of Ymir, and an almost-crown-like marking on their foreheads, their lines denoting family were otherwise different, Frey’s showing that he was simply the child of Loki child of Laufey while Loki had familial lines for two sides: Laufey as his bearer and Farbauti of the North, Farbauti the Far-Striker as his sire.

It was an impressive lineage to be sure.

Shockingly, one of the smallest differences between their marking was the most vital.

Where Loki had five small dots above his crown markings, Frey was mark-less.

Honestly, that Loki had them at all was a miracle, that Frey didn’t was solely due to Odin being a lying, kidnapping, asshole.

What he would no doubt try and spin as abandonment of a “runt” Jotun, was actually a time-honored tradition to test the abilities of a royal Jotun child.  And a requirement for any Jotun of the House of Ymir to be eligible for the throne.  Loki had completed his – five nights survived on the icy Casket of Ancient Winters.  One made a Jotun capable of surviving the climate, two a warrior, three a royal, four an invidja or sorcerer, and five a King or eligible heir.  They were watched carefully, monitored by the priests of the temple.  If a child born into the House of Ymir cried out during the traditional – and frankly religious – nightly trials, they were marked with the number of dots corresponding to the night they cried out.  Loki had completed his fifth and was thusly marked, the ceremony barely completed before the Aesir forces laid siege to the temple and killed the priests who’d been charged with his care.

But Odin never told Loki of his heritage, never told him of the ancient history and traditions of his rightful people.  Of his throne and house.  And as a result _his_ son and heir was _not_ the heir of Jotunheim for all that he was their prince in truth.

It was rare that a Jotnar child born into the line of Ymir went unmarked – but not unheard of.

Odin himself was one such, the proud Aesir King didn’t even have a Jotun form the way his adoptive grandchild did.

It pissed both Loki and Laufey off to no _end_ that Frey would have to be set aside from the line of succession for the Jotnar kingship all because Odin was a lying twat.

Not that either of them would lower themselves to say such a thing…though they also had never reprimanded Frey from doing so either.

Entering the palace proper, in awe as always at the sight of gleaming ice and spiraling crystal, Frey shrugged out of his ice-wolven cloak, handing the silvery-white fur off to one of the palace staff who would take it to be brushed out after his week-long journey into the wilder parts of Jotunheim, another had taken charge of his mount while a third ferried his haul from the hunt – pelts and hides and carcasses – to either the kitchen or the seamstress and furriers.  Underneath he wore a simple leather and fur kilt wrapped around his hips in the same silver-white fur with grey leather, with his favorite vambraces in black dragonhide and vibranium on his arms and a sword sheathed on his back.  For all that he’d gotten used to the attire and culture of Jotunheim, years and years of certain habits were hard to avoid, such as his using a sword fashioned from metal rather than one he conjured from ice like the other Jotnar.

Frey grew a bit in his Jotun form – much to his Far’s irritation who stayed the same height.  Six-foot-four-inches wasn’t small by any means, and was perfectly normal for a Jotun _invidja_ , even taller than many Aesir who were known more for their muscle mass than anything else, but it was still small compared to the standard Jotnar who tended to be between eight-and-ten-feet tall, and tinier still compared to the warriors who tended to be the largest and strongest of the Jotnar, some being up to twenty feet tall.

That Frey – who was taller than his Far Loki _anyway_ at six-foot-six-inches – shot up to just over seven feet tall in his Jotun form was just salt in the wound Loki carried around over his height…probably due to both Odin and Thor being massive bastards at almost seven-feet-tall themselves – or at least Odin _was_ during his prime.  Thor was a bit smaller than Odin was told to have been at six-foot-eight inches, missing Odin’s six-eleven by three inches.  Probably due to Frigga being a Vanir – who tended towards being lithe and around six-foot-tall for the average male – rather than Aesir, Elven, or Jotnar, the last of which being the race that gave Odin his height.

It was funny, but when they decided to meet Laufey for themselves years ago, both Frey and Loki had been expecting a massive giant like those in the tales…not a slender _invidja_ who was dwarfed by his two younger children Helblindi and Byliestr who were both warriors and their sire Farbauti, all of whom as warrior Jotnar were various degrees of massive with Farbauti being one of the tallest Jotnar alive, and Helblindi dogging his heels, both around eighteen-feet-tall and Byliestr not much smaller at seventeen-feet-and-some-inches.

Laufey – the monstrous baby-eating-giant of Aesir children’s nightmares – was a relatively-diminutive seven-feet-tall, who could become larger – and often did around the massive forms of their mate and younger children, but used their natural form more and more often around Loki and Frey to make them welcome in the Winter Hold.

Granted, Frey’s grandbera dwarfed Loki and most Aesir by almost a foot…but he wasn’t the massive giant from the tales.

Frey’s guess – after having been introduced to his paternal family – was that the Aesir warriors intentionally exchanged Farbauti with Laufey when telling their tales.  After all, which was more frightening – and therefore impressive – to defeat?  The massive giant and warrior Farbauti or the smaller and deadly _invidja_ who used “women’s tricks” of magic to baffle and defeat entire legions?

Especially to a culture that alternately scorned, feared, and diminished magical ability.

Odin having his eye torn out by a massive warrior like Farbauti was more befitting a king and general of a warrior people than the truth of Laufey who was in many ways both Odin’s equal – size, power, magical training – and his superior – trustworthiness, caring, education.

So in the stories Farbauti became a “maiden Jotnar” – which was laughable – and Laufey the monstrous warrior king.

All as a sop to the barbaric warrior mentality of the Aesir.

“There you are!”  Loki’s voice rang out as Frey wandered into the glistening family hall of the palace.  “I was afraid you wouldn’t return before I had to leave to make ready for the buffoon’s coronation.”

Frey snorted at that.

Then there was _that_.

Anyone with eyes in their head – not that Frey knew for himself as he’d never gone to Asgard, keeping carefully out of sight of Heimdall and Odin whenever he ventured into any territory controlled by the Yggdrasil pantheon – could see that Thor wasn’t ready to be King, even for the short year-and-a-day that came with the Regency during Odin’s Sleep.  No matter where Frey journeyed – Jotunheim, Alfheim, Vanaheim, even visiting his half-sister in Niflheim – they whispered and feared what would become of the Nine Realms with the War Monger on the Throne of Asgard.  Thor was known for two things – being genial to his friends and allies, and being a brutal killer to everything and everyone else.

The Nine Realms had had enough of such things during the first part of Odin’s rule, before he finished stealing the treasures of the Nine Realms and plundering the lands under the aegis of bringing them under his protectorate.

Even Frey, who still spent a great deal of time with his teenaged children in England in an entirely different universe, was worried over it.

His family – those that would hopefully live as long as he will, those that he won’t have to mourn – were nearly all in the Nine Realms.

Loki, Frigga, Laufey, Farbauti, his half-sister Hela and her ghostly consorts, even the somewhat-annoying Helblindi and Byleistr, and Byleistr’s mate Thrym were all in the Nine, with his “uncles” Jormangandr and Fenrir spending time there as well when they weren’t off causing mayhem in the far reaches of the Universe Cosmic.

If Thor proved to be as bad a king as Loki suspected…it was set to be a disaster.

“Are you sure you don’t want to sabotage the damned thing?”  Frey asked, arching a brow as he smiled and nodded at his grandparents who were sitting at a table playing a game as Loki rose and came to give his son a hug.

Technically in his Jotnar form Frey and Loki were both dual-gendered or intersexed, the same as every other Jotnar.  But as they’d both been raised in a single-sexed form, despite their shapeshifting… _experiments_ , they considered themselves males.  It boggles the minds of their Jotnar relations sometimes, and they all insisted on using genderless identifiers for them like “child, sibling, or barn” but Frey and Loki went along with it.

As long as everyone was happy with the status-quo there was no need to make a fuss over it.

Loki laughed and patted his son and heir – the best thing he’d ever done in his life – on the back gently, finding him just as beautiful a child while blue as he did in his other forms, a fact that had helped Loki come to grips with himself far easier than he likely would have otherwise.  He might have been raised to see the Jotnar as the monsters in the dark, but there was no way he could look at his child – or his grandchildren from Hela who were Jotnar as well – and see anything monstrous in any one of them.  And if they could be Jotnar without being monsters, then so could Loki himself.

“I appreciate the offer.”  Loki told him drily as they wandered over to sit and watch Laufey and Farbauti, the two game players giving warm greetings to their grandbarn as he sat.  “And believe me it’s tempting, either for you to make mischief or to do so myself, but in the end.”  He sighed, shaking his head, the beads and metal in his braids clinking a bit at the motion.  He would take them all out with a spell and comb back his hair before returning to Asgard and his Aesir form.  “It’s just not worth it.  Better to keep Thor as calm as possible and steer him the best I can from making any hot-headed – and surely catastrophic – decisions.  Anything short of him starting another war before his coronation Odin would be sure to brush off.  And such a thing wouldn’t be worth the loss of innocent life just to keep the throne away from Thor for another few decades.”

“If you’re certain.”  Laufey looked away from the game board a moment and gave his eldest child and heir a knowing look.  “If you change your mind you are free to use a convict or two in a scheme, Thor might not be good for much but I’m sure you could maneuver him into taking care of that minor rebel problem brewing in the south.”

Frey chuckled a bit at that, feeling a bit rueful at the ruthlessness Laufey could display so casually.

Not that he and his Far couldn’t be ruthless…they just tended to keep it to the battlefield for the most part.

But then…

Neither of them was yet a King.

Turning the dial on his magical pocketwatch to his oldest (by a matter of minutes) child Antioch, Frey flipped open the cover.  Inside the enchanted watch showed a picture of Antioch with his full name wrapping around it – Antioch Haraldr Peverell – inside the cover as well as the date and time of his location, with the location (Malfoy Manor, Peverell Fen, Hogwarts Castle, Hogwarts Grounds, etc.) and general level of health (well, fine, stressed, troubled, injured, etc.) being shown by the hands.  Generally speaking, with his children (who were all set to leave for their fourth year at Hogwarts this Fall) where one was the others were surely close.  And this was borne out as he noted that while he’d been on Jotunheim for two weeks, two months had passed, their fourteenth birthdays being the next day in their universe.

Time passed strangely between places and times controlled by different pantheons, Loki had told him as such and he’d come to find out for himself.  He’d spent as much of it as possible with his kids when they were younger, but as things have started to heat up in the Yggdrasil pantheon and his kids aged, he’d had to spend more and more time here and less there.  It was both a blessing and a curse, the growing distance between them.  With age and maturity, (and having another set of parents and tons of honorary aunts, uncles, grandparents, and miscellaneous mentors) they needed him less and less.  It certainly gave Frey new perspective on what his Far had gone through with being mostly absent but for sporadic visits during Frey’s growing years.

Only Loki knew that once Frey was an immortal in his own right it would be much harder for Odin to fuck with him, making it safer for Frey to be within the reach of Yggdrasil, a place where his son would be in need of his company and council.

For Frey it was the opposite.

His children would never need him more than when they were young, and he’d spent their first few years of life winning surety of protection for them from the Olympians – he’d only had to slay or assist in the slaying of a trio of Titans to manage it.  And he didn’t have forever with his children as his father could expect to have with him.  Once they had started Hogwarts, he only saw them a few times a year, something which likely wouldn’t change much once they were adults and started their lives.

Antioch, Asterion, and Frija would only drift farther from him, not closer.

They’d always understood that their Father was a hero, that he fought the monsters under the bed and sometimes that took him away.

But now that they were older, he had had to explain what he truly _was_ …and what that in turn meant for them.

For one thing, without Frey anchoring the two dimensions or universes or whatever together with his presence alongside his children, time sped by faster there, as if that universe was making up for all the years his presence, Loki’s visits, and the Aesir’s spying on Frey had kept the two so closely bound together.

But now that he’d been acknowledged as a Prince of Jotunheim, the so-called “Frost Prince” due to his lighter than normal coloration for an _invidja_ , he had a duty here to his people as well as there with his children.

Without the Casket of Ancient Winters, Jotunheim was dying.

It was only through the abilities of the _invidja_ like his grandbera Laufey and the _invidja_ stronghold led by Angrboda that it hadn’t died and broken apart entirely.

And both Frey and Loki were _strong_ in magic, stronger than any other _invidja_ alive despite both of them being relatively young (or just plain young in Frey’s case).

They were needed as much as possible to lend their magic to keeping Jotunheim alive, a big part of the reason that Loki traveled from village to village while Frey wandered the wilds, each lending their magic either directly to the people and structures or to the very land itself.

“I must go soon as well.”  He commented as he shook himself from his reverie.  “The kids get their school letters tomorrow – their time – and we’ll need to shop and pack them away on the train until Yule.”

“Give our great-grandbarns our love, little one.”  Farbauti said in their smooth, strong bass voice.  “We’ve all made gifts for you to take back to them.”

“I will, grandsire.”  Frey nodded with a smile.  The kids loved it when he brought back gifts from Jotunheim – though they still didn’t quite know about where it was he was going when he left.  An explanation that was long overdue.

Thankfully, none of the Aesir watched – _spied_ – on him ever since he “retired” from heroics after the Gaea debacle.

And as a result they kept their peeping eyes off his children as well.

He finally felt safe – enough at least – to let his origin be known…at least among his children living in the Wizarding World, and at fourteen should be mature enough to know they had to keep it to themselves – for his own safety more than their own.

“I’ll send their gifts to them personally.”  Loki said as Frey, urged on by the steadily clicking moments on his watch, rose and gave each of them a hug and a kiss before taking his leave.

“Okay.”

“Say goodbye to your kin before you leave.”  Laufey commanded, tossing a piece of fruit to their grandbarn when Frey turned.

“I will, I will.”  Frey smiled, cheekily waving the fruit as he trotted out of the family hall in search of the others so he could leave.

“There’s so much of you in him, my little prince.”  Laufey laughed.

Farbauti snorted, giving a roll of their eyes before saying: “You mean they’re both like _you_.  That cheekiness definitely didn’t come from my side of the family.”

Laufey and Loki gave them matching playful scowls before exchanging glances and laughing along with Farbauti, Loki likewise rising and taking his leave after his son.

It wasn’t only in the Wizarding World where things were happening apace.

And the Norns-knew, someone needed to be in Asgard to keep things under control.

Or at least _try_.

…

_Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, Wizarding Great Britain_

“It’s time, isn’t it?”  Draco asked his former-lover and constant friend as they watched their children rip and tear through their Hogwarts letters at the breakfast table.

Over the years, Draco had gotten used to having Frey – though most knew him as Harry, Draco knew otherwise – popping in and out of the Manor to see their children.

Even if, due to the ritual used to create them, they were only his and Frey’s children in the loosest genetic sense.

Thanatos’s ritual – different yet similar to the one James and Lily Potter had used to create Frey himself – had, well, _harvested_ the genes from each of them that were of the magical houses Frey was required via his birth ritual and agreement to provide heirs for.  Draco was their parent just as much as Frey was, but if one were to run their DNA, they’d be hard-pressed to put them as anything but the loosest of genetic relations.  It was a strange thing – but wonderful in the way Thanatos had used them to revive a trio of dying houses.

After they had their honeymoon, they went away to Peverell Fen.  A place where the children had stayed even after one villain then the next was defeated, Frey fearing that _someone_ might somehow track them, Frey being by then a severe thorn in the Titan-King’s side, let alone how the disenfranchised Death Eaters or the minions of Gaea might have decided to retaliate.  But in the end, even Draco had to admit it was worth it.

Their relationship hadn’t weathered the separations, it had already started showing cracks even before their children were born, and he was very happy married to Blaise with children of their own, and lived in Malfoy Manor most of the time.

But now they had the oath of all Olympus to protect Antioch, Asterion, and Frija from all divine harm…and considering who Frey’s adoptive grandfather was, it was an oath that was more than worth all the blood and pain it’d cost Draco’s former lover to secure it, and the heartache some of those actions on Frey’s part had caused Draco and all those Frey was slowly separating himself from in England such as his godfathers and Uncle Sev.

“Yes.”  Frey said lowly, answering the platinum-haired wizard, Blaise paying rapt attention to both their conversation and his youngest who was gleefully splattering her tray with the contents of her mashed fruit and cereal.  “Things are starting to happen among the branches of Yggdrasil.  They need to know who – and what – I am…and that there may come a time where I’m not just gone for a few months but for years if things go badly.”

“I won’t say they won’t miss you or that they don’t need you, Frey.”  Draco told him with a scowl softened slightly by the gentle look he cast the ebony-haired immortal.  “Because we all will and they still do.  But I think…”  He smirked knowingly.  “That they won’t be surprised to find out that their Father is a little bit more than your average wizard.  Or the Boy-Who-Lived.”

“Still with that fucking name, Dray, I swear to the Norns…”  He trailed off faux-threateningly as the other two men laughed, conversation effectively derailed as the triplets ran over to them waving their supply lists with vigor, Asterion tripping over his too-large feet that he hadn’t quite grown into.

“Yes, yes.”  He laughed, rising and grabbing them each one at a time into a massive bear-hug.  “Finish your breakfasts then it’s presents and Diagon Alley for you lot.  Chop chop.”

…

“Soo…”  It was their far-too-clever Asterion, who took so much after Loki and Draco when it came to cunning that it drove Frey up the walls, who put a fine point on the matter later that night after all the supplies were purchased – nothing but the best – and presents were given out.  “Grandfather Loki is _The Loki_?”

“Yes.”  Frey answered patiently, Draco and Lucius were there more to give support and veracity than field the thorny issue of Frey’s heritage.

“Which makes you – somehow – destined to be a god instead of just a half-blood like Uncle Luke and Aunt Silena?”

“Yes.”

“Because of the ritual Grandfather James and Grandmother Lily used to get you?”

“Yes.”

“Then…”  Asterion’s brow furrowed in mild confusion.  “What _are_ you?  If you’re not a god – right now – like Grandfather Loki or a wizard like our other grandparents or a half-blood or even a muggle?”

“That’s the million-dollar question.”  Frey told his wide-eyed children drily.  “An argument could be made for any of those – or none – depending on how you look at it.  Growing up I was called a godling, at present I could be classed as either an everyday” – heh – “immortal or a half-Jotun.  Despite the stories told about him your grandfather Loki is a full-Jotun, not a half or full Aesir.”

“Okay…”  Frija blinked.

“Can you turn blue?”  Antioch asked excitedly.

“Yes.”  Draco chuckled, answering for the blushing Frey.  “He can, though he usually doesn’t unless he’s gone to Jotunheim and forgotten to turn back when he got home.”

“Prat.”  Frey shot at his fellow parent.  “Don’t go ratting me out to our kids.”

“He asked.”  Draco shrugged.  “And I knew you probably would stumble through that one.”

“We’re wizards…”  Asterion asked finally.  “And you’re not…that means…”

“Yes, my clever one.”  Frey answered, voice heavy with grief.  “You’re going to pass on someday.  You’ll cross the Veil, maybe to Valhalla, maybe to Elysium, and be with those who’ve gone on before.  Anything short of a battle with another god and well…”  Frey grimaced.  “I won’t ever be there to stay, though depending on where you…go…I might be able to meet you and… _help_ you when you _get there_.”

He couldn’t – no matter how hard he tried or how at ease with the general concept he was – say the word _Death_ in relation to his children.

He just couldn’t.

Unless one of them invented a Philosopher’s Stone, that was their inevitable future as it was with every mortal.

Even if as wizarding children, that day was far in their futures, double or triple the length away as if they’d been pure mortal-mundane.

“There’s going to be trouble there, isn’t there?”  Frija asked softly, ignoring the scary conversation her brother had just had with their father and focusing on what she’d gathered from the conversation.  “Like the stories you told us of when we were too little to remember and you went off and fought with Uncle Luke and all the rest in New York.  There’s trouble in Grandfather Loki’s world.”

“Yes.”  Frey sighed, nodding wearily.  “These things work in cycles and if you pay attention you can almost _feel_ it when one begins.  And this one is close to starting if it hasn’t already.  Something is about to keep me very busy for likely a very long time.  I don’t know how often I’ll be able to be around anymore once things _start_.  But.”  He amended hastily when their sweet faces dropped in sadness.  He would _kill_ Sirius one of these days for teaching them the puppy-god-eyes.  Teenagers and it was _still_ turning him into mush.  “When things happen on the cosmic level like this – the checks and balances kicking into gear – there’s always, _always_ lulls.  And I’ll spend every second I can with you guys during those lulls, just like I did when you guys were babies and toddlers and the Head Great Prat decided to throw a temper tantrum.  And if I can’t make it in person…”  He smiled, knowing that they were going to get a kick out of this one.  “I can always visit you in your dreams, the same way your grandfather used to visit mine.”

…

Months passed and Frey saw his children off to school – he’d netted a Slytherin in Asterion (surprise, surprise), while Antioch made a Ravenclaw and Frija a Hufflepuff when they were Sorted back in their First Year – then welcomed them back home, spending the holidays all together at the Fen.  He’d gone off on short trips Yggdrasil, investigating the tingling he was getting on his Oh-Shit senses, but not able to get a clear read on where the trouble was brewing.  Other than that it led him consistently to both Asgard and Midgard.

Which was just _fucking fantastic_.

He’d already set up several secondary cover identities on Earth years before in addition to his main one that was a businessman and partner to his “uncles” Jor and Fen, though he planned to use his most…innocuous identity for now, posing (successfully thanks to his degrees from Midgard’s Olympian-universe collegiate counterpart, his personal education, and a dash of magic) as an expert in Old Norse mythology and literature.

Though he never failed to giggle at the idea of his father _birthing Sleipnir_.

An office in Boston and a graduate class taught one day a week saw him as tough-but-dreamy (according to the student body) Professor Black who had been a prodigy in his native Norway (heh) and was now a genius in the field of translating and deciphering Old Norse and related languages.

Harvard and Yale went into a damn bidding war over who would offer him a position (mostly thanks to the aforementioned magic usage) with his credentials.

He rounded out his background with a stint in the Norwegian Royal Navy, a taste for Thai food, and a membership with both a literary gentleman’s club and a boxing gym.

And he waited for the other shoe to drop, keeping well out of the sight of Asgard, even as he traveled the paths available to all of Ymir’s blood to seek knowledge and whispers throughout Yggdrasil or its multiverse neighbor the Universe Cosmic.

After all…

Odin joined together the Nine Realms using the body of Ymir himself, therefore only the great first Father’s kin could use the paths between them fully, truly harnessing the gateway that was Midgard between the joined universes.

It was May 2011 in Boston, and November of a different year in WGB with his children enjoying their fifth year (and _shudder_ … _starting to date_ ), when at last it happened.

The other shoe dropped.

Right alongside a _fucking enchanted hammer_ in New Mexico.


	3. Two

** The Frost Prince **

A/N: The first part of this chapter is told from Loki’s perspective, then the second from Frey’s as they deal individually with events in Asgard and Earth.  Also, I kept nearly word-for-word Odin's speech in the Bi-Frost chamber.

**Chapter Two: Golems, Jotnar, and Flying Hammers**

“He’s not ready, Mother.”  Loki sighed as he sipped at his cup of tea.

Years had passed since he first was told of his heritage by his beloved son.  And time had soothed his early anger with Frigga over his kidnapping and being lied to all his life.  He knew full-well – once he was able to be rational about it – that there was nothing she could’ve done in the face of Odin’s actions and commands.

She certainly didn’t have to love him, nor console him in the face of the mockery of the Aesir children over his seeming strangeness.  Of course he was strange.  He was a fucking _Jotun_.  And from all his parents had divulged in case he ever had a child who presented as Jotnar above everything else – as a godling Frey didn’t count, largely due to the ritual that was involved in his conception – Loki’s growing years and all their trials _hadn’t_ been anything strange for an _invidja_ child.

Especially the spontaneous magic and shapeshifting that had given Frigga and Odin no choice but to allow their youngest son – adopted or not – to train in the arts of seidr.

Frigga had done the best she could for the cuckoo in her nest, and Loki couldn’t help but love her just as fiercely as always, a love in no way diminished by his finding and eventually loving his birth family as well.

“Thor will be a…”  Frigga sighed herself, thinking of the best way to put it.  She loved both of her boys so very much that it pained her to have to hedge her words.  But no matter how fiercely she wished to deny it, Loki, her clever Loki, was right.  Thor _wasn’t_ ready.  He lacked the wisdom and calm to be a truly _good_ king.  But Odin wouldn’t put Loki on the throne of Asgard unless there was no other choice and Baldur was far too young at a mere century old, who was even now off gallivanting around Vanaheim with his Vanir cousins under the watchful eyes of her brother, the Vanir King Freyr who was fostering him for a hundred years while Asgard goes through the transition of having another King while Odin aged and needed to Sleep more and more often, the last being a mere century ago, Baldur conceived upon his awakening.  “Popular,” she settled on.  “King.  The people will love him.  And he’ll have you to help him.”

Loki snorted into his teacup.

“You mean he’ll have me to do all the _work_ of being King while he starts wars and reaps all the privileges of Kingship with none of the hassles.”

“Loki…”  Frigga scolded him gently with a look for his unkind words.  “Your father…”

_Not my father…_

“Will go into the Odinsleep soon.  He is tired and with Thor and yourself finally of age for the throne, I cannot take up the regency or pass it off to one of your uncles by Asgardian law.  And you’re even younger than your brother, if only by a few years, there would be trouble if your father passed the throne to you over him when Thor has never done anything to truly warrant such an action.”

At least in the last two hundred years her oldest son had begun to mellow – at least a little – and no longer started fights at the tiniest provocation.

Though he still listened to the council of others far too often, even if half the time that council was coming from those who only wanted the best for the Nine Realms or Asgard.  The problem became that many thought that what was best for Asgard was the only thing to be considered, leaving aside the rest of the Realms, like General Tyr.  Which put Thor’s most common councilors, his friends and mentor, at odds with his younger brother who tended to promote the welfare of all the realms over that of a single realm.

It was sure to be a headache – and one her damned husband was going to get to sleep through.

“He’s not _ready_.”  Loki repeated himself firmly.  “And if I do everything for him…”  He sighed once more, setting his tea aside.  Tea together was a daily ritual whenever the middle son of Frigga was in Asgard.  “He never will be.”

“Just support him, my darling.”  Frigga advised.  “Don’t let him shove off the work of the throne onto your shoulders the way he used to try and shove off the tutors’ assignments.  You didn’t let him get away with it then, don’t let him now.  No matter how much he blusters or whines.”

They shared a knowing look and a chuckle at that before turning the conversation to Baldur and his antics on Vanaheim.

…

Thor was pacing a bit in the empty antechamber – save for his friends the Warriors Three and Sif of course – waiting for the hour to arrive for his imminent coronation when he saw Loki, dressed in his best clothes the same as the rest of Asgard with his ceremonial spear and daggers strapped and shining to his chest, legs, and back, walk by likely to handle some errand for one of their parents at the last minute.

“Brother!”  He called out.  “Join us!”

Ignoring the muttering that arose at Thor’s invitation from the quartet of lack-witted lackeys, Loki sighed with an eye roll and turned to stride over to his visibly-nervous-but-trying-desperately-to-hide-it lummox of an adoptive brother.

“Greetings, brother.”  Loki said smoothly after Thor was done crushing his best clothes with his bear-hug embrace.  “How are you on this most auspicious morn?”

“Wonderful!”  Thor blustered, “I’m wonderful.  I’m…”

“Nervous and shaking in his boots.”  Hogun muttered in an aside that was easily heard by them all.

Loki hid a smirk at that.  There was a reason he liked Hogun the best of all.  And not just because he was Vanir and a good friend of Frigga’s where the other three are the children of important Aesir, such as Fandral who was the son of Odin’s brother Ve, or Sif who was Tyr’s daughter and the half-sister of Heimdall both.  Volstagg with being the youngest son – but second oldest of the four, as Loki rather thought Hogun was older than either he or Frigga owned up to – of one of Odin’s councilors was the _least_ well connected of the group.

“There’s nothing to be nervous about.”  Sif bit out sharply.  “Thor will make the greatest king Asgard’s ever had!”

“To Thor!”  Volstagg and Fandral thundered, quaffing the rest of their mead, Sif joining them while Hogun simply watched, the two princes ignoring them all.

“Don’t be nervous, brother.”  Loki soothed.  “This is your day.  None would dare mar it.”

“Thank you, brother.”  Thor beamed, talking – for once – in what his brother mockingly called an “inside voice.”  “With your support and me on the throne Father has nothing to worry about.”

“Hmm.”  Loki arched a brow at that, turning to take his leave.  “If you say so, brother.  If you say so.  No matter what remember: I only ever have the best interests of the Nine Realms at heart.”

“I know, brother.”  Thor called out smiling.  “That’s why I rely on your council so!”

“And here I thought it was so you could skip out on sitting in judgement or speaking with the Thing.”  Loki called back.  “You layabout!”

Thor’s guffaws carried all down the hall as Loki moved to take his place in the throne room at his mother’s side, Sif and the Warriors Three following eventually at his heels like ducklings as they realized the hour.

It was time.

…

Thor was all but breathing fire in his best impression of the Destroyer by the time the royal family and the Einherjar reached the weapons vault, Sif and the Warriors Three dogging their steps.

Loki was at a loss.

Neither he nor Frey had plotted to upset the coronation, knowing better than to risk the destruction the Thunderer was capable of when roused.

Which meant someone else was playing tricks – and in the royal weapons vault no less.

A dangerous – and worrisome – thing, that; as there were few with the raw power let alone the knowledge of how to carry off such a thing…though as soon as he saw what was done – and if there really were Jotnar in the Vault – he would have a much better idea of what caliber of mage they were dealing with.

That they were dealing with a mage of some power was already a foregone conclusion.  Only a mage could get _anyone_ , let alone a group of Jotnar, deep within the Asgardian palace and into the Vault.  For them to – if Loki’s suspicions were right – transport them directly into the Vault itself?  Now _that_ would take power unlike any save himself, his son, and perhaps that of Frigga or Laufey to accomplish.

“Report!”  Odin barked at the panting captain of the royal guardsmen – the Einherjar captain in other words.

“Two dead guards in the Vault, All-Father.”  Captain Sigrid announced.  “And the bodies of possibility three dead Jotnar.  The Destroyer stuck before anything could be taken.  There were no survivors or captives.”

“Thank you, Captain Sigrid.”  General-Lord Tyr told him as he strode into the Vault hall, Tyr being the ultimate leader of the Einherjar and one of Odin’s most trusted friends.  “That will be all, we shall take things from here.”

With a crisp bow and salute, the Einherjar filed out of the Vault and took up watch in the hall, save for a quartet who were taking away the two dead guard bodies for burial rites.

At Loki’s signal the body-bearers paused with their stretchers, allowing him to inspect the wounds of the dead before he waved them on.

“What is it, my son?”  Odin asked cannily, single eye tracing the perplexed look on Loki’s face.

“Those were wounds from edged weapons.”  Loki answered slowly, as he turned to General Tyr, apart from Odin considered one of the foremost authorities on Jotnar combat styles and strategy among the Aesir.  “General Tyr, have you ever known the Jotnar to used steel or bladed weapons in place of those they can conjure.”

“Rarely…my prince.”  Tyr answered after a moment of introspection.  “Only those among their elite who have training with such weaponry and can either afford to have them forged by either the dwarves or elves or who have taken spoils from battle.”

Loki nodded, mind clearly elsewhere to his audience as they entered the Vault and saw the carnage.  A pair of blood-spills near the doors showed where the royal guards fell, while the still-smoldering pile of ash and burnt flesh and bone gave vision to the Destroyer’s work.  One blue hand was within inches of the Casket of Ancient Winters, giving truth to the idea that these were Jotnar for no other species but that of Jotnar blood could hope to touch such a thing unscathed without taking precautions in the form of enchanted gloves or a protection against frostbite.

Before Loki could speak or Odin or Frigga could ask him his opinion of the spellwork involved, Thor spoke up brashly, his ire raised by having his shining golden moment interrupted.

“The Jotnar must _pay_ for what they’ve done.”  Thor demanded.

“They have paid.”  Odin responded, voice low, Frigga finishing the thought.

“They’ve paid with their lives…”  She said gentle – but firm – as always.  “That is enough.”

Loki was unsurprised in the face of their unity.  When it came to many things Odin and Frigga were often at odds.  But when it came to things that could spark a war they were unilaterally aligned… _now_ anyway.

“That is _not_ enough.”  Thor shouted, flinging his arms wide as Loki took advantage of the chaos to investigate while the others bickered, crouching low to examine the remains of the “Jotnar” then moving to trace the sigils burnt into the wall across from the Casket where Odin was watching the blue light dance in relief.  “ _Look at where they are_.  They’re in the weapons Vault!  If even _one_ of these relics…”

“But they didn’t.”  Odin snapped, head turning to pin his impetuous son with his one-eyed gaze.  “And they paid the price of trying.  Let that be the end of it.”

“Be the end of it?”  Thor scoffed.  “That’s not the end of it, I want to know why they’d _dare_ to invade Asgard, our home!  As King…”

“But you’re not King.”  Odin lashed out, stamping Gungnir on the stone floor.  “And will not be King until I say.  I say this is the _end of it_.”  His eye narrowed.  “Do you hear me, boy?”

Furious, Thor whirled from the room, hand already gripping the haft of Mjolnir.

“He’s going to do something stupid.”  Loki commented from where he was tracing the sigils as Frigga dashed out after her oldest son.  “It’s written all over him.”

“He’ll go and complain over his old father, and drink, and come the morn have too heavy a head to do aught but whimper.”  Odin rolled his good eye, moving to strengthen the enchantments and security of the Vault.  “What do you see, Loki?”

“They’re _not_ Jotnar for one.”  The Crown Prince of Jotunheim drawled, still studying the magical work.  “Golems: clay and blood and magic.  Fashioned to look and sound and even feel like real Jotnar.”  He finally turned at met Odin’s gaze.  “But not made from Jotnar blood and they didn’t have Jotnar powers that I would expect from an incursion team.”

“The edged weapons.”  Odin nodded in agreement.  “That seemed odd to myself as well.”

“Moreover this,” Loki waved towards the sigil.  “Is delicate work, strictly seidr, not elemental.  And done from the _inside_.”  He set his mouth grimly.  “I’m afraid we have a traitor in Asgard, All-Father.”

“My sleep is near.”  Odin blew out a breath.  “General Tyr.”  He spoke to the Einherjar commander as they moved from the Vault, Loki cleaning the golem remains with a spell after gathering what he’d need to test the magic used to make them.  “I am leaving the matter of the vault breach in Prince Loki’s hands.  The Einherjar will give him whatever assistance he requires to investigate this matter.”

“Yes, my King.”  Tyr nodded, grim blue eyes meeting likewise green.  They didn’t agree with each other on many matters to say the least.  But when it came to the health and well-being of their people, Loki and Tyr each had no stronger supporter than each other in all of Asgard.  “As you order, it will be done, Prince Loki.”

“Thank you, General.”  Loki nodded regally.  “For the moment, post two men inside and _outside_ the Vault doors and double the patrols of this wing.  Let us _not_ give who so ever is behind this little…escapade an opportunity for further mayhem.  For that matter…”  Loki trailed off, thinking deeply.  “Have the palace and city guards double patrols as well.  This may have been only a test to see if they could breach our defenses…they may well strike anywhere at any time.”

“Yes, my prince.”  Tyr nodded crisply then strode off to carry out the preliminary orders.

Loki was moving towards his quarters, intent on further tests, when a telepathic shout reached him from the All-Father.  A rare thing that.  Odin generally preferred to keep his usage of seidr to great works that instilled awe in the masses and fear in his enemies.  Then the thought that trailed behind the All-Father shouting his name hit him.

_LOKI!  TO THE BI-FROST!  THOR HAS GONE TO JOTUNHEIM!_

And Loki shed his elegant posture and teleported straight to Heimdall’s side as he heard the oncoming sound of hooves on crystal, beating the All-Father by a matter of moments.

“You let him go to _Jotunheim?!_ ”  Loki shouted at the Gatekeeper, Odin backing him up as he reached down with one arm, helping lift the second prince of Asgard into the saddle.

“Strange things have been going on, on Jotunheim.”  Heimdall said placidly.  “Things shrouded from my Sight.  Thor and the others yet live.”

“But for _how long_ against the might of Laufey?”  Odin hissed, infuriated.  “Make no mistake, once I’ve saved my son from his own thoughtless foolery, we will have _words_ old friend.  Open the Bi-Frost.  Set me down as close to the battle,” because he knew there _had_ to be a battle.  “As you safely can.”

“As you command, my King.”

…

Thor was grimly battling the attacking Jotnar without his usual joy in a grand fight.  He’d looked for Loki but his brother was busy with Odin investigating the vault.  Frigga, his mother, had stopped him, trying to cool his temper and upon failing had given Hogun a charged look.  She hadn’t known of what Thor was planning but she clearly hadn’t been happy with whatever she assumed it would be as she left to give succor and comfort to the families of the dead guards.

The royal family would pay weregild, the blood-price, to the families of the fallen, but Thor knew as well as any that it was little comfort to the living and could only hope to prevent hardship from falling upon them with the loss of a guard’s stipend to support them.

Blood had been shed, _Asgardian_ blood.

And now Thor was raining blood down on the Jotnar in buckets…but Loki wasn’t there at his back, nothing had gone the way he’d thought when he’d reached Utgaard, he hadn’t even had an audience with Laufey King, instead meeting some petty Lord.

Fandral was seriously injured, and the Jotnar were pressing them towards the cliffs and the icy sea which would kill them in moments – if the great creatures that dwelled beneath the waves, the largest and fiercest of any in any realm, didn’t snatch them up as a meal immediately on breaching the water.

Heimdall couldn’t – wouldn’t – open the Bifrost as long as there was a chance that even a single Jotun would be taken up with him and his friends and faithful companions.

“Thor!  We have to get back to Asgard!”  Sif shouted.  “Else Fandral will surely die!”

“Go!”  Thor shouted back as he whirled his hammer, building up for a massive strike.  “Run and call Heimdall then send soldiers after me!  Now go!”

Focused on the battle, close to losing himself to the bloodlust of the _berserkergang_ , Thor almost missed it, that wonderful, wonderful sound of the Bifrost opening and sending someone down – he knew the others were still far too close for Heimdall to take them up, even to save the life of his beloved half-sister.

Never in his life had Thor been happier to see the vision of his father and brother appear, even though Loki looked sickened as Odin steered Sleipnir to hover in mid-air above the battle and Odin simply appeared furious.

“Laufey King!”  Odin shouted, eye scanning the battle that had stopped at his appearance.  “Where is Laufey King?”

“Not here!”  A Jotun snarled at the trespassing Asgardians.  “The Odinson, the War Monger came and attacked the Heir of Lord Geirröd and all his men who were gathered _peacefully_ at the ruined Citadel.”

“You are, as always, _wrong_ , Lord Geirröd.”  The voice of Laufey King called out over the din of Jotnar rabble as an elite group of guards, likely brought to investigate the Bifrost arrivals appeared with help from the Jotnar _invidja_ , bringing with them the King of Jotunheim and their two princes, the royal consort Farbauti the Far-Striker staying behind at the royal palace to sit in Laufey’s stead as the King investigated.  “I am here.  What _foulness_ brings your War Monger son to trespass and murder in my lands, Odin-King?”

“A sorcerer caused mischief in Asgard today, using golems in the shape and form of Jotnar warriors.  My _foolish_ boy came here and acted without all the facts.”  Odin said heavily.  “I will send him off, and you and I will…discuss this breach of treaty Laufey-King with our less-foolish sons present.”

“Very well, Odin-King.”  Laufey waved off the Jotnar forces, sharp eyes marking every face that had come to meet with Lord Geirröd in the ruins of the old citadel.  If nothing else had been accomplished this day, at least the Odinson was good for one thing: mowing down Jotnar rabble-rousers.  “Call your Far-Seer.”

“Heimdall!”  Odin shouted as he brought Sleipnir to land, Loki dismounting and standing tall at his side.  “Open the Bifrost.”

At his word, Thor and his friends were carried away, hopefully in time for his nephew’s wounds to be healed by Eir.

While that was taken care of, Laufey had conjured a tent with assistance from Loki who furnished the interior to make the coming parley as comfortable as possible.

Which wasn’t saying much as Laufey had him by the balls thanks to Odin’s thoughtless son and heir – what’s more they all knew it.  _Asgard_ was the one in breach of the treaty, not Jotunheim thanks to Loki’s preliminary investigation.  There was weregild to sort out, and concessions would have to be made.

And if Odin knew anything about Laufey…he knew _exactly_ how much this was going to cost and hurt Asgard.

…

“Why did you send us back?”  Thor demanded as soon as Odin and Loki reappeared on Sleipnir, Odin ripping out the sword which is the key aside from Gungnir, named Hǫfuð, which powers the Bifrost and throwing it at Heimdall who obeyed his king’s snapped order to gather the Thing in the throne room.

“Do you even _realize_ what you’ve done, what you’ve started?!”  Odin snapped back once they – he and his sons – were alone in the Observatory, the Warriors Three having taken Fandral for healing and Sif departing with her brother to carry out Odin’s command to gather the great council.  “If you can’t even protect your friends, how can you hope to protect the Kingdom?”

“There won’t _be_ a Kingdom to protect if you’re afraid to act!”  Was Thor’s reply, Loki standing back and watching the scene play out with wary and – honestly – worried eyes.

What had just happened on Jotunheim and then the magic invasion that had precipitated it had shaken him, especially as he’d easily read on Laufey and his brothers’ faces that they’d had no hand in the attack, as Loki had wanted they’d stayed out of it despite sharing his worry of having a war-mongering Thor on the throne of Asgard.

“The Jotnar must learn to fear me, as they once feared you.”  Thor continued emphatically.

“That’s pride and vanity talking, not leadership.”  Odin shook his head as he stood up on the lock mechanism of the Bifrost, leaning wearily on Gungnir as he argued with his foolish child who had just cost them more in one action than Loki had with all his tricks combined.  “You’ve forgotten everything I’ve taught you.  About a warrior’s patience…”

Thor, still not realizing just how deep of shit he was in, interrupted.

“While you _wait_ ,” he hissed viciously.  “And have _patience_ the Nine Realms laugh at us.  The Old Ways are done and you would stand there giving speeches while Asgard _falls!”_

“You are a _vain, greedy, cruel_ boy!”

“And you are an old man and a _fool!_ ”

Odin rocked back as Thor blinked, clearly taken aback at what had burst from between his lips.

“Yes.”  Odin whispered, wearily.  “Yes.  I was a fool.  A fool to think you were ready.”

“Father…”  Loki stepped forward, trying to stop this before any further damage could be done.  He may not love Odin any longer, or even respect him, but he _did_ love Thor for all that the other could be everything Odin accused him of and more.  He didn’t want the actions of an insidious snake in the palace to result in Thor being too heavily punished…especially since it was all rebel forces against his father’s throne that Thor and his friends had killed.

Odin gave a wordless shout and pointed Loki back, then turned and took up Gungnir once more, speaking tiredly.

“Thor, Odin-Son.”  He said with grief ripe in his voice.  “You have disobeyed the express wishes of your King.  For your arrogance and stupidity you would have opened these peaceful realms and innocent lives to the horror and desolation of _war_.”  His voice rose as his resolve hardened, Odin powering the Bifrost with Gungnir, sending lightening roaring through the Observatory.  Striding over to his son, Odin stripped him of his sigils and his cape and armor.  “You are not _worthy_ of these realms.  You _are not_ worthy of your _title_!”

Thor gasped in shock and disbelief as his father stripped him, eyes tearing as the next charge against him hit home as he locked eyes with a similarly-teary-eyed Loki.

 _“You are not worthy_ of the loved ones you have _betrayed.”_

Odin strode back to stand at Gungnir as Loki stood frozen in place with a wave of Odin’s power and a flex of his will.

“I now take from you, your _power_.”  Holding out his hand, Odin summoned back the gift he gave Thor upon his becoming a warrior of Asgard, Mjolnir having no choice but to obey the King of Asgard and come into Odin’s hand.  “In the name of my father, and _his father_ , I, Odin All-Father, _cast you out!_ ”

Hit with a wave of power from both Odin and the Bifrost, Thor disappeared from Asgard in a blast of light.

Sucking in a deep breath, and releasing his hold on Loki, Odin spoke an enchantment onto Mjolnir then sent it flying after his disgraced and banished son.

“For whosoever holds this hammer, if he be worthy, shall possess the power of Thor.”

…

He was home in his apartment – well it was more like a base – that served more for function than anything, another way to complete his cover in this world, since he spent all the time he could manage either with his children when they were home from school or on Jotunheim being taught by his grandbera and other kin on the Jotnar culture and using Jotnar elemental magics or traveling and training with his father in far-off realms.

It was a simple place, in a not-so-simple location, no matter how hard he tried, when given the option Frey will always revert to how he was raised – with a militaristic mindset but with the expectation of only the best.

He was a Lord and a Prince and a future god…and he’d always known it.

While he wasn’t blindingly arrogant or cocky about it like his Far’s stories of Thor or Odin, or even Fandral from the Warriors Three, Frey did, when given the option, choose to live in a manner that gave away his preferences.

His apartment – only three rooms with parking, furnished simply with clean wooden furniture and simple-but-rich fabrics – was located in Beacon Hill, one of the richest and oldest neighborhoods of Boston.

It wasn’t a cabin furnished with exotic pelts and weapons that cost the earth or a manor in Wiltshire, a castle in Scotland, or a penthouse in Kensington, but it spoke of underlying wealth all the same, giving rise to rumors among the staff and students who were in-the-know as it were, that their ex-pat Professor came from old money.

Frey was absently marking papers, glad that he only taught upperclassmen as, if they had a habit of boring him senseless with their shallow interpretations of the _Lokasenna_ , he didn’t even want to contemplate what it would be like to read an essay on the topic written by a freshman.

Then he felt it, a massive surge of power, one that he’d felt before but never while on Earth.

He _recognized_ that power, the power and distinct energy of the Bifrost.

But never before had he felt it or sensed it in any way while on any version of Earth.

One thing he knew, if _he_ could feel it, who wasn’t even a native of this Earth, there had to be others who could as well, disregarding his familiarity with the source.  Just because others – good, neutral, or otherwise – might not know _what_ that power spike was, or where it came from, there had to be those who could sense it one way or another.  And if someone just came to Earth from Asgard and were found – and Chaos forbid – taken either by a shady government organization or would-be terrorists, Hel, even a slightly-shady corporation like Oscorp, it would mean _nothing_ good for either Earth or Asgard when war broke out.

Because one thing Frey was dead _certain_ of after the last months intensive study of this Earth – in person rather than pure theory or glancing visits: while the majority of Asgard and the mythical/magical universe of the Nine Realms or the connected physical universe of the Universe Cosmic might see Earthlings as little more than primitives, humanity as a rule was more vicious, clever, and inventive than more “advanced” societies gave them credit for.

 _Someone_ would find whoever this traveler-via-Bifrost was, their arrival made too big of a wave for it to be missed in the modern era.

A second spike, smaller, less controlled, followed the first as Frey was on his feet and already moving, changing his clothes with an absent flex of power into his basilisk-hide armor his father had given him years ago, the once-shiny poisonous green mellowed to a dark emerald with boots, vambraces, and a hood all in the same material but dyed black and reinforced with a metal native to his new paired-universe home called vibranium.  Going into his bedroom, Frey opened the hidden panel in his wall after accessing the security spells he had placed around it, then let the tech eye and fingerprint scanner do their jobs.  One thing he admittedly loved about this version of Earth was that it was connected to both a mythical/magical universe through Yggdrasil and a physical/scientific one through the Cosmos.

Not all places were, most either belonging to one or the other, or even existing on a different plane entirely like the ether or astral planes.

It was the main reason why _this_ Earth was so very valuable.

And so heavily protected by Asgard.

Earth was the gateway between two compatible but distinctly different universes…and the people who called it home had utterly no idea – for the most part.

More gifts from his father in the form of his sword, _Magefire_ , and several elvish-made blades from Alfheim were quickly set into their homes on his armor.  Magefire, which had been forged by Hephaestus using Thanatos as an intermediary, married _uru_ the magical ore that both Mjolnir and Gungnir were forged from with Stygian Iron, native to both his home universe as Stygian Iron and his father’s native multiverse as an alloy called adamantium.  The hilt was etched with runes and the Yggdrasil, with a shining dark grey blade that rippled with veins of inky black from the Stygian Iron – a darker ore than adamantium for all that they were near-identical in every other way – that almost made the blade look as if it was lit with dark fire, hence the name.  A true broadsword to match is adult height, most humans would be hard-pressed to lift it without his enhanced strength.  His elvish daggers were weapons that he used most often when sparring with his Far, along with dozens of staves and spears that this time he was leaving at home but could summon if need be.

It was easy for his magic to pass off a sword strapped to his back as a pack of some kind, and his armor being basilisk hide with little vibranium or uru adornments passed as simple leather or synthetic hide.

It helped things greatly that vibranium and adamantium were extremely rare metals on this planet, with uru never seen at all unless they had a very-well-off off-world visitor.  People didn’t glance at his daggers or the metal on his armor and think vibranium automatically.  Rather, they’d likely write it off as simple polished steel or a titanium alloy if they put much thought into it at all.

It certainly made staying under the radar easier, those assumptions about the rarity of particular metals.

And since his daggers were never seen until they were needed, they were never an issue at all.  But he’d learned the hard way that while the natural “hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil” obliviousness of mankind tended to ghost over things that _almost_ appeared normal with nominal magical help, things like seven-foot-long spears or staves tended to draw more attention and thusly need more magic to bypass.

Plus, in the modern era of cameras and zero-privacy, he could always miss a camera or other security breach if he was otherwise occupied…like with a sudden visitor from the Realm Eternal.

The last thing Frey needed was either the government or some super-villain to come knocking on his door because he made the five-o’clock news as a spear wielding psycho.

It took him all of two minutes to change and arm himself, pulling back his long black hair into a warrior’s braid with a spell, then sent out his magic seeking to find the Bifrost landing sight, the first one first, and sent himself across the country with a mere wisp of power.

…

Minutes were all it took him, he cursed under his breath as he watched the RV with its strange devices drive away.  And in that time whoever had appeared in what he thought was the New Mexico desert had already been damaged by the natives and taken away.  From the little he’d been able to hear while maintaining his invisibility and not getting too close to the storm in which an observant person would notice the man-sized hole where wind and rain should be, the Aesir was lost and very confused…and weakened somehow.

Cursing under his breath, Frey glared up at where he knew Asgard waited and likely Heimdall watched.

The Far-Seer couldn’t see him, thanks to a certain silver cloak that he’d bound to himself, letting him turning invisible at will instead of having to huddle under it, and with collecting the Hallows he’d unlocked their full potential.

They didn’t let him “Master Death”, a laughable idea for all that the title was nominally his, but they _were_ most powerful and easy to manipulate to their fullest potential while in sync with one another…once he’d figured it out.

You’d be surprised what you can learn with two hundred and fifty years on an abandoned-but-for-you island.

He couldn’t erase the Bifrost site entirely with its massive sigils burned into the ground, Heimdall would see that even if the Gatekeeper can’t see _him,_ but he _could_ vanish the Aesir blood from the ground, an action he’d have to repeat on the now-gone RV and whatever samples the hospital the humans had taken the Aesir to would take to rule out things like blood alcohol level and the presence of drugs.

Frey didn’t know which idiotic Aesir had pissed off the All-Father enough to earn temporary banishment – the Aesir weren’t fertile enough that permanent banishment was a viable punishment and even execution was rare – not that pissing off Odin was all that _hard_ anyway.  From the back and while crumpled on the ground, all Frey’d seen was blood, blond hair, and muscles that shouted male.  Which could be one of hundreds or thousands of Aesir.

Using a spell, Frey conjured a map, pinpointing where the Aesir was using a drop of blood he’d kept for this very reason.  They were headed into the nearest town, which would take a good twenty minutes more at the speed they were moving combined with the storm.  That gave him fifteen minutes to find the second landing sight.

Tucking the map away, Frey closed his eyes, summoned his power, and vanished once more.

…

“All-Father.”  Loki stepped away from Frigga and into stride with Odin, his mother at their heels, as the King of Asgard made his way into the Throne room, the massive hall now having the council table in the center of the room where the walkway for Thor to pace and then ascend the Throne had been that morning.

Had it only been a day?

One day, Loki mused to himself, thinking of all the times in Frey’s early years where one day was the difference between monotony and disaster.

The little seeress daughter of Apollo’s was more right than she knew when Regina gave Frey hints to his future.

In many ways, both great and small, his son was so very much like Thor.

But it was the differences that made them such different men, who if they ever met were just as likely to be instant friends as they were bitter rivals, depending on the circumstances, and every permutation in-between the two extremes.

“We must discuss this.”  Frigga hissed out as they entered the Throne room.  “Odin!”  Always keeping her tone too low for eavesdropping.  “What have you done with my son?”

“What I must.”  Odin answered her abruptly as they all took the first three places that had been left empty, Heimdall taking the fourth that was usually reserved for Thor, to no little chagrin and surprise from the other councilmembers.

The Thing was the ancient advisory and judicial council of Asgard, created in the ages of Asgard’s formation under the rule of Buri, Odin’s grandfather, in the ages of becoming.

Compared to the first realms, Niflheim, Jotunheim, and Muspelheim; Asgard was very young in those days, and hadn’t yet become as xenophobic as it would under the rule of Odin.

In the ages of becoming, when the Nine Realms were born and later connected intrinsically through Odin’s vile kinslaying and his and his brothers’ creation of Yggdrasil’s physical pathways using Ymir’s bones, Jotunheim was born first and in many ways became the template for all societies that followed after it in one way or another.  After Jotunheim, the land of Winter, came the world of fire, Muspelheim, and the world of the dead, Niflheim.  Alfheim was fourth, the land of Fall, then Vanaheim, land of Spring, and then Asgard, land of Summer with Svartlheim the world of darkness last in creation before Earth or Midgard, was found to be in the very center of the mystic paths of Yggdrasil, half within and half outside their universe.  Each world, even the land of the dead, has some form of the early council that Ymir’s sole surviving son Bergelmir created to help rule over the Jotnar.

On Asgard, that became the Thing, which has had various levels of power depending upon the reigning King and the state of both Asgard and the Nine Realms.  Before the birth of Odin’s sons, when he would Sleep, Frigga would rule as Regent.  But once they had children, she was forced to rely more on the help of the Thing and Odin’s brothers when he would Sleep or go off to war, for one example.

Often, the Thing would preside over simple cases of law-breaking or civil matters that weren’t of enough import to bring before the royal family for a final judgement, however if those judged were unhappy, they could appeal and have Odin or the sitting royal member – who could be anyone from Loki to Frigga to even Fandral as one of Odin’s nephews – review the ruling of the Thing.

Asgard was yet an absolute monarchy however, and no matter what grievances the Thing might raise – say over creating a treaty with Jotunheim or taking a war-captive as his bride – the throne’s word was law.

Once everyone was seated save Odin, the King of Asgard began to fill-in the Thing on the events of the day.

“Thor Odinson has been banished from Asgard.”  He stated resolutely ignoring the hissing whispers that arose at his announcement.  “He disobeyed the wishes of his king, broke the millennium-long treaty with Jotunheim, led his friends into grave danger leading to the severe injury of Lord Fandral, killed with his friends dozens of Jotnar warriors, and gave voice to words that were no less than sedition.”

Silence covered the Thing in increasingly heavy waves with each charge presented against the exiled Crown Prince.

“Thor Odinson is from this day hereby banished and stripped of his powers, station, immortality, and title until he proves himself worthy of wielding the sacred hammer Mjolnir once more.”  Many of the councilmembers – who were both male and female Aesir – perked up at that.  It wasn’t a _final_ sentence then.  They all knew Odin could be a patient teacher, he was after all, known as a seeker of knowledge.  But there did come a point when teaching wasn’t enough, and a lesson had to be forced on the most stubborn Aesir.

Tyr’s lesson had cost him his hand, Odin’s his eye, both in battles against the Jotnar.

Who knew what this lesson would cost Thor in the end?

“Which leaves Asgard in a difficult position.”  Odin said heavily.  “Our Crown Prince is banished, a new treaty has to be ratified with Laufey – though the terms have already been set, they must be carried out, and Heimdall, Lady Sif, and the Warriors Three must all stand trial for their breaking of Asgardian law.”

Heimdall winced almost imperceptivity from his seat beside Loki.

He’d known that Odin, old friend or no, wasn’t going to let this go.

“And finally,” Odin nearly sighed the words.  “The Odin Sleep is nearly upon me.”

“Who shall stand as your Regent, All-Father?”  Lord Ve, Fandral’s father and Odin’s brother asked.  “By law, it is Prince Loki’s right by inheritance and he while having a mischievous nature in his younger years, has proven himself a fine stateman and diplomat.”  Ve traded a look with his sister-in-law and brother Vili.  “I cannot think of another who would better stem this oncoming tidal wave from the Jotnar.”

“That was my decision as well, brother.”  Odin nodded, turning to face Loki fully.  “Loki Odinson, Prince of Asgard, will you stand as King-Regent and guide Asgard for a year and a day while I enter into and recover from the Odin Sleep?”

“I will, All-Father.”  Loki said immediately, giving no voice or face to the turmoil roiling inside of him.

“Responsibility.  Duty.  Honor.”  Odin said lowly.  “Those are the disciplines of the soldier, of the King.  In your brother I fear I have instilled the last but have missed the others.  Will you uphold the Honor of the Realm Eternal?”

“I will, All-Father.”

“Will you acquit your duty to protect the Nine Realms to your last breath?”

“I will, All-Father.”

“And will you hold yourself responsible for every innocent life in those same realms?”

Green eyes met a single, piercing blue.

“I will, All-Father.”

“Then, for a year and a day, I name you, Loki Odinson, god of Mischief and Chaos, Avatar of Magic, King of Asgard and Protector of the Nine Realms.”

Loki rose to his feet and took hold of the offered spear as the Thing including his mother all stood and either bowed (Frigga, Odin, Ve, and Vili), or kneeled.

“Hail, Loki King!”  Odin and Frigga called out.

“Hail!”  The Thing repeated in a raucous if cautious shout, many agreeing that Loki was a great diplomat and speaker, but less assured of his ability to inspire loyalty in the army and lead the men into battle if his silver-tongue failed and the Jotnar attacked.

Odin took Loki’s former seat across from Frigga, the Queen of Asgard still beaming proudly at her second son, Loki moving to the head of the table and motioning for all to sit, setting Gungnir in the holder at what was normally the All-Father’s seat.

“King Loki.”  General Tyr spoke.  “As you ordered patrols have been doubled all throughout Asgard and the Vault is guarded within and without.  What news is there of the sorcerer who breached the defenses and of Laufey?”

“The two things are not one.”  Loki said after a moment of wordless communication with Odin.  “Thor Odinson left Asgard without knowing the entire facts of the situation.  The weapons vault was breached by a sorcerer, yes.  One who wanted us to think that the Jotnar and Laufey were behind the hostile act by use of a golem.  I have not yet had a chance to further examine the spellwork as the All-Father and I had to leave to save Thor from himself.”

Tyr nodded slightly, appeased for the moment.

“Patrols will remain and Asgard shall be on alert for any great casting of magics beyond that of the royal family.”  Loki commanded.  “One thing I do know is that whoever did this was not a member of the royal family, else they would have used a simpler and less draining spell to breach the Vault with their constructs.  All other seidr users are to be detained within our borders until such a time as the guilty party has been found.”

“Yes, Loki King.”  Tyr and Heimdall answered, as the command was for them both.

“As for the matter of Laufey and Jotunheim.”  The Thing drew in their breath.  “The treaty stands with two changes.  As weregild for the murdered Jotnar, Laufey has demanded and the All-Father agreed, to release the Casket of Ancient Winters.”  Loki held up one long-fingered hand, quieting the uproar that announcement caused.  “Peace, friends, peace.  Laufey has agreed to use it for its original purpose only as the Heart of Winter and will not use it as a weapon.”

“And the second concession?”  Vili asked.

“The trade embargo against Jotunheim will be officially lifted.”

There were smiles at that announcement.

The trade embargo, while necessary to keep the Jotnar in a state that prevented them from any attempts at breaking from the All-Father’s yoke, had made acquiring certain things, certain _luxuries_ difficult save for smuggling.

Jotunheim diamonds and gems for one, were the finest in all the realms, and the pelts of various animals were always in high demand, much like the silver-white pelt that Loki’s son’s garments were made from on Jotunheim.

Alfheim and Vanaheim would be ecstatic, and even the dwarves would be glad to have access to the ore rich deposits Laufey’s family controlled.

This concession, while seeming like a loss of face, was actually a great boon to all the Nine Realms.

Which was what made it hurt Odin’s pride so dearly.

“When will they want the Casket?”  Frigga asked, frowning lightly.  “And who is to deliver it?”

“Technically, I believe Laufey wanted the All-Father to return what he took.”  Loki noted drily, with a _look_ at the Aesir in question.  “However, with his health and Sleep soon upon him, I will handle it myself as the King of Asgard in the morning if possible.  The soonest done the better to prevent some of the more _fractious_ Jotnar from causing trouble before the treaty can be sealed once again.”

“And the trials?”  Ve asked as one of the main judges and law-speakers of Asgard.

“Immediately after I return from Jotunheim.”  Loki decided.  “Call a full court, Lord Ve, these charges are no small affair.  We shall give the accused the night to rest from their ordeal, and then see what they have to say for themselves.  Any other business?”

The members of the Thing murmured for a moment, many eased over the turmoil with Loki’s no-nonsense way of getting things done.

“Then I, Loki, King of Asgard, declare this meeting of the Thing concluded.  See you all tomorrow for the trails.”  With a thud of Gungnir against the floor, the council rose and began to depart, some in groups others alone.  Ve taking off likely to see his injured son while Loki and Frigga stood at the ready to support Odin as he seemed to age and his weariness grow by the second.

“This was awful timing.”  Frigga fretted as she and Loki helped Odin to his chambers and settled him into his bed.  Neither of them would be surprised if the next time he woke it was months from now.  “What was your brother _thinking?”_

“He wasn’t.”  Loki murmured as she took his arm and he escorted the Queen to her private chambers that she used when either infuriated with her husband or he Slept.  “That’s much of the problem.”

“Yes, yes.”  Frigga heaved a sigh, patting Loki’s arm.  “As you’ve said.  Be careful in Jotunheim tomorrow.”  She advised, worry ripe in her sparkling blue eyes.  “Laufey is one of the most cunning kings I’ve ever met.  He’s dangerous…but he also wants what is best for his people.  Keep that in mind and you should be safe.”

“I will, Mother.”  Loki soothed, brushing one hand down her braided golden hair.  “Don’t worry over me.  Save it for Thor.  The Norns know…he’s going to need it.”

…

Moments after whirling away from the first Bifrost landing site, Frey appeared at the second, then stared uncomprehendingly at the massive _fucking enchanted hammer_ buried in the New Mexico bedrock.

“Oh fuck.”  He groaned to himself as he buried his face in his hands.  “You’ve gotta be shitting me…”


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Special Halloween update!

** The Frost Prince **

Author’s Note: As always with this story, some pieces of dialogue come straight from the movie _Thor_ (2011).  None should be as massive as the dialogue dump from Chapter Two, but there are still places where the original dialogue fits the story the best.  And honestly…Odin’s speech (asshole father of the year or not) was epic.

**Chapter Three: Trials, Treason, and Tasers**

Digging in his pocket, Frey stared down at Mjolnir after reading off the enchantment.

He really _really_ doesn’t like the implications of what he was seeing.

But without wasting the time to go to Asgard personally to meet with his father or do some digging for himself if Loki was elsewhere, there was only one way for him to find out _what the fuck_ was going on.  If his guess was right (and he really wanted to be wrong) then that meant the blond muscle mountain that had been taken away in a RV was _Thor_ , as in the Crown Prince of Asgard, Thor.  Someone who hasn’t interacted with mankind in over a thousand years.

Fuck.  This.

Frey _was not_ an Aesir babysitter and had no desire to become one.

But for all Loki’s complaints about his “idiotic” adopted brother, his father still loved the big bastard, adopted or not, the same as he did Frigga who if not the perpetrator of Loki’s kidnapping and brainwashing was at least complicit in the ongoing deception over his true origins.

Frey didn’t have _nearly_ the same tolerance or warm-fuzzy feelings for Asgard and its people and _part_ of its royal family that Loki did.

Which just made this entire situation that much worse.

Just _once_ , Frey would like his sixth sense regarding possibly cataclysmic events to be _wrong._

Finally finding the mirror in his enchanted space, sort of like a magical door that only he could open and access and then store things in the pocket behind it, Frey sent his magic into the mirror and called out his father’s name, hoping that Loki would be in an area where the mirror-call would go through.  Over the years since Frey first made it with help from his godfathers, they’d learned through trial and error that there _were_ places, rare they might be, where the paired mirrors couldn’t connect.  Hela’s palace in Niflheim was one such place, and a few others that were either completely devoid of magic or seidr or those that were too heavily saturated in it, like the former temple site that had housed the Casket for thousands of years.

“Loki.”

The mirror fogged over for a moment, then connected with a muttered curse from the other end.  All Frey could see was the shadows of a golden corridor.  Loki was somewhere in the Asgardian palace.  Good.  Maybe he could explain this clusterfuck to his son.

“Why am I standing over Mjolnir with who I _think_ is Thor on the way to the hospital in New Mexico?”

“The All-Father banished him to the Americas?”  Loki arched a brow in surprise, having woven an illusion that would keep him shielded while they waited for the Thing to gather.  He was still reeling from watching his adopted brother alternately almost start a war and _die_ before being stripped of his power and banished.  “I would have thought he’d aim for Iceland or mainland Scandinavia.”

“Father!”  Frey hissed, feeling the march of time.  “I have less than ten minutes before I have to get to the hospital and snatch Thor up before he blabs to all and sundry _all about_ Asgard and the Nine Realms.  Information I’m dead _certain_ this Earth isn’t ready for yet.”

“Someone used golems shaped like Jotnar to break into the weapons vault.”  Loki explained, words almost tripping over themselves as he felt Odin’s magic approaching.  “Thor took off, infuriated over having his coronation interrupted, and almost started a war with your grandbera.  Fortunately, his temper only cost the lives of some rebels, and Laufey-King was able to demand a few major concessions from Odin as a result.  Upon returning to Asgard, Odin banished Thor until such a time as he proves himself _worthy_ of once more wielding Mjolnir.”

Frey groaned, shoulders slumping.  “After reading the inscription on the hammer I was afraid you were going to say something like that.”  The sound of trucks approaching grabbed Frey’s attention.  “People are coming to investigate Mjolnir, others have already interacted with Thor at the Bifrost site.  At this pace, I don’t know how much I’ll be able to keep this under wraps.”

“Do the best you can, my son.”  Loki told him, glancing over his shoulder as Frigga entered the hall, visibly scanning for him with her magic.  “I must go.  Try and keep Thor from becoming a, how do you say, a _lab rat_ if you would, little prince.”

“I will, Father.”  Frey sighed.  “Call me as soon as things slow down up there.  We need to make a plan to keep this contained.”

“I will, my son.  Good luck.”

“You too.”

Father and son traded rueful grins, then Frey tucked the mirror back away, wincing as the blast of headlights stung his eyes as he glared down at the hammer.

Were he a different immortal, he’d likely waste more time trying to lift the fucking thing.

It could go either way, he knew what virtues Odin valued in his successor: honor, duty, responsibility.  Those Frey had in spades.  But he didn’t have Thor’s pure heart…and wasn’t willing to find out for certain if he’d changed so much from when he was an idealistic young hero-in-training under Chiron.

The chances of a human being able to lift it either with technology or through being “’worthy” were slim and none knowing how Odin viewed mankind.

Mjolnir would be safe enough – if an oddity – while Frey dealt with the much _larger_ breach in the security of the Nine Realms – Thor Odinson, the Thunderer, a title he’d gained for his temper as much as his former control over storms.

…

As expected, by the time Frey arrived at the hospital, Thor had already made an ass of himself, then gotten jabbed _in_ his ass with a hypodermic filled with sedative by a nurse.

Which was entertaining as _shit_ but hardly conducive to keeping a low profile.

After setting a spell that would incinerate any and all samples taken by the doctors as well as any other more innocently gained DNA – stray hairs, bandages from what looked like Taser burns (ouch), etc. – Frey stood over the night-gowned Thor and grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.  A few clicks on his phone – he _did_ enjoy this era of Earth whenever he visited one, either his own planet of origin or these others – and he acquired himself a two-bedroom mini-suite with a kitchenette for the next week.  Tucking the phone away, he glanced up at the camera and cut the power to it with a snap of his fingers, then heaved Thor up, tucking one golden arm over his shoulders and hanging on before spinning in a circle and disappearing with a barely audible crack.

One prince of Asgard, safely reacquired, check.

Frey left Thor still knocked out and under a concealment charm in the backseat of his car.  He’d popped them both back to Boston, dressed Thor with magic now that he knew there weren’t cameras to pick it up, packed a bag, and then stuck Thor in the back of his Mazda SUV before popping them and the car to the alley behind the hospital in a blindspot.  One thing he liked about small towns was there was less tech to worry about usually but generally it was a trade off against locals who were hyper-observant of outsiders.

Feeling a bit of a headache coming on from teleporting blind several times while tracking the Bifrost energies, plus the magic he’d used to vanish Thor’s DNA and make sure no one malicious got their hands on Mjolnir – foolish maybe with Odin’s enchantment but he wasn’t ruling out a mutant or supervillain managing it…and the fact that those were terms that were part of this world made him laugh more often than not – apparating (which was different than teleporting) with a passenger cross-country then apparating back with passenger and car, plus all the little things he’d used magic for, Frey was ready to get his knocked-out Aesir in a bed and rest with a beer while waiting for his father to call and fill him in more completely.

He was more than powerful enough for everything he’d done, but too much time popping here and there and everywhere could be a literal pain, in Frey’s case right behind his eyes, from the changes in pressure.

And he really hoped that his Far’s explanation was more than: Thor was stupid, Odin was mean, now we have to clean it up.

The local receptionist gave him a Crest-commercial-white smile and a chirpy “Welcome to the Holiday Inn!” before getting him set up with keycards and directions to the rooms and a rundown on the amenities which included a laundry service and breakfast.

At least he wouldn’t have to go completely broke feeding Thor, though he had a feeling the staff would be much less accommodating once they experienced just how much an Asgardian could _eat_.

“Do you need any help?”  Becca – the receptionist – asked as Frey returned with a backpack and a heavily-leaning Thor as he walked (hobbled) to the elevator.

Frey was strong, much stronger than he looked as he’d frozen into his immortality, but even mortal Thor was massive, and him _not_ struggling with someone of Thor’s size would draw more attention than this little charade.

“I’m fine.”  Frey smiled back charmingly.  “And so’s my assistant.  Not made for long drives I’m afraid.  Took one too many Xanax when we had to cross a high bridge.”  He confided with a wink as Becca helpfully called the elevator.

“Poor thing.”  She cooed sympathetically.  “Well, just y’all get some rest in, this is a real quiet town, I’m sure your things will be just fine if you wait to bring them in.”

“Thank you, dear.”  Frey smiled again, pressing the button for the top floor, where it would be harder for someone to sneak up on them when Thor’s arrival inevitably draws the wrong kind of attention.

“Y’all have a good night.”

Frey snorted quietly at that as he eyed the nearly-drooling exiled prince on his shoulder.

Yeah.

He didn’t think that was likely in the cards.

Not tonight, and likely not _any_ night until Thor was back where he belonged and the latest world-and-universe cycle of crises were over.

Though knowing Frey’s luck that was probably _years_ away…his kids would be having kids of their own with the way time passes between the two points before Frey was likely to be completely freed of this multiverse’s chaos…and maybe not even then.

…

“I wish you were here.”  Loki finished with a sigh as he ran through the events of the coronation day, which had been only moderately derailed upon Frey hearing his father had been made King Regent.  “Your magic given to you by your mother, James, and even Thanatos is very different from the seidr used by the Nine Realms.  You might be able to discern something I’ve missed about the sorcerer at work.”

“What does Grandbera Laufey think about all this?”  Frey asked as he sipped at his beer, having eaten and changed while waiting on the call, Thor still tucked up and now _actually_ drooling on the opposite bed, a sight he’d made sure to snap a picture of with his smartphone.  Loki would no doubt enjoy a copy for Yule this year.  As it was, Frey’s mind was filled with all the information his father had just dumped in his lap.

“I won’t know until after I bring them the Casket.”  Loki and Frey shared a pleased grin with just a hint of viciousness to it.  Regaining the Casket was necessary for the continuation of Jotunheim, and it would especially relieve the burden on all of the _invidja_ , including Loki and Frey.  But that it was their Crown Prince returning it to the Jotnar would silence all but the more fervent of the House of Ymir detractors.  “But offhand I’d say they’re a bit too pleased with themselves over how things turned out.  I wouldn’t put it past them to have given our illusive sorcerer the Jotnar blood used in the spell…or to at least know who did.”

“Think they’ll share what they know?”

“Depends on how valuable the information is and what they either know or have discerned of the mystery sorcerer’s intentions.”  Loki answered after a long moment.  “If they think it will place either of _us_ in danger with our ties to Asgard, no matter how nominal yours are at the moment, they likely will.  But if the chance to strike at Odin is too tempting…”  Loki trailed off, needing to say no more.  “It could go either way.  And I can only spend so much time trying to pry it out of them on the morrow.”

“Yes, the trials.”  Frey chuckled.  “And I’m sure that you’re not excited _at all_ for a legal and above-board chance to payback some of the misery Thor’s merry band of idiots has caused you over the years.  And Heimdall as well for his constant disrespect and suspicions.”

Loki disappearing to see Frey and then Frey’s family over the last twenty-some years hadn’t endeared the second prince to the Gatekeeper…not in the least.  Heimdall was, in many ways, like every other spy.  He _hated_ an unsolved mystery and unknown secrets.

“Hmm.”  Loki hummed, neither denying nor agreeing with Frey’s assessment.  “Just keep an eye on your uncle for me, will you?  I don’t know what or how long it’ll take for him to regain his grace in the eye of Odin, but I’d hate to lose the lummox because he didn’t realize that getting hit by a car could be fatal… _again_.”

“He’s not my uncle.”  Frey shot back by rote.  And really, since he’d only ever heard tales of Thor from his father, tales which had all-but-stopped when Frey revealed Loki’s heritage to his father, he really didn’t think much of Thor at all.  But he definitely didn’t have any familial leanings either.  Just another headache he had to take care of because he’d been indoctrinated with a hero-complex from birth.  “But I’ll do my best.  No promises if he pisses off another Taser-wielding twenty-something.  Hells,” Frey laughed.  “He pisses _me_ off and I might just taze his ass myself.”

“Fair enough.”

…

A full contingent of Einherjar, led by General Tyr, accompanied Loki to Jotunheim the following morning.

Loki, somewhat refreshed from his sleep, had already been awake for hours before his mother ever arrived with his new armor freshly polished and ready for its debut on the new King Regent of Asgard.

A title Loki had never wanted and which if the Nine Realms weren’t teetering on the brink of war, he would’ve thrown back in Odin’s smug face.

But, as his mother had rightly pointed out, a Prince wasn’t a King, even if he was only a King Regent, and the fact that she had armor prepped and ready in a style he’d prefer and his colors made him nothing less than suspicious that Frigga had truly been championing his cause to Odin all along.

It was all black and green, with the metal work either brushed black or gleaming silver.  The helm and spines of the metal bringing to mind a dragon’s wings and spikes, something he’d commented on to Frigga, only to be told that he’d often been compared to a dragon with his temper when it was rarely unleashed.  And that a dragon was a fierce protector – exactly the thing the Nine Realms needed.    All the spines and metal work made it heavier than his usual heavy armor, more in line with something for Thor or Baldur’s bulkier forms, but with his Jotnar strength it was easy enough to carry.  He’d have to spar in it a time or two at least with the guard, lest he be attacked and find himself unprepared for how his body moved in the new attire.

Frigga had seemed a little _too_ pleased with herself as she carried off his old helmet, as his new “Kingly” helm was what he’d be expected to wear whenever it was required.

She’s never liked it, though Loki as a young “Aesir” had very much since it reminded him of Odin’s own helm.

Foolish boy that he once was.

Rather than ride the eight-legged Sleipnir once he’d retrieved the Casket from the Vault, speaking with the guards as he was at it and taking another look at the burned-in seidr sigils, Loki had his own mount, Sleipnir’s father the massive black stallion of Alfheim lines saddled, the Einherjar mounted behind him all on their gleaming white steeds.

A nod from Loki had them cantering through the palace and city, thundering down the Rainbow Bridge and enjoying the melody that sprang up from the crystals at the impact of two dozen hooves.

Heimdall, who had been returned to his post pending trial, silently opened the Bifrost and set them down on the same cliff that Odin had saved Thor on, Laufey and his men already awaiting them, including Loki’s two brothers.

“Laufey-King.”  Tyr spoke strongly as Loki waited astride his horse for the formalities to be observed, the Casket balanced carefully on the saddle before him.  “Odin All-Father has fallen into his Sleep.  At his command, his second son, Loki, god of Mischief and Chaos, Avatar of Magic, has been chosen as King-Regent for a year and a day, as is the custom of Asgard.”

“Thank you, General.”  Loki said in his soft but commanding way.  “Loki-King gives greetings to Laufey-King and Jotunheim, and I bring with me the Casket of Ancient Winters to restore the Heart of Jotunheim to its proper place, as was agreed to in accordance with the new treaty between Jotunheim and Asgard.  Here do we also affirm that as of this day, no longer is Jotunheim subject to trade restrictions.  Such was the command of Odin-King and is now the command of Loki-King.”

“Jotunheim greets and congratulates Loki-King on their ascension.”  Laufey said, their humor at the situation carefully concealed from the Einherjar and those of the Jotnar who were _unaware_ of Loki’s true parentage.  “And affirms the treaty with Asgard upon the receipt of our stolen Heart.”

At this signal, Loki lithely swung down from Svadilfari and took hold of the Casket, his hands shielded from its great cold by his new armor’s gauntlets, which was handy as otherwise he’d be turning blue.  Turning, he approached Laufey, who likewise had broken off from their men and met their child and the crown prince of Jotunheim in the empty plain between the small force of Asgardians and the large host of Jotnar.  With regal poise, Loki handed his father the Heart of Winter, Laufey lowering their head to seemingly study it to ensure its veracity, which hid the proud and pleased smile they gave their eldest _barn_.

The only thing that would make this moment better was if Loki was wearing his true skin for all to see.

Reaching out, Laufey grasped the Casket, knees almost buckling at the instant influx of power before regaining their poise.  Whirling as Loki stepped back, Laufey lifted the Casket above their head with a mighty, ecstatic roar, the Einherjar shifting restlessly behind them.  A gesture from Loki who had returned to his seat on Svadilfari as Laufey held up the Casket for the Jotnar to see had them standing down, even if it didn’t remove fisted hands from sword hilts or spear shafts.

Two Jotnar who Loki recognized as his brothers and members of the elite Jotnar warriors, ran forward and took the Casket at Laufey’s order, lifting it high above their heads and running in step with it for the ruins of the temple – or so the Aesir supposed.

Loki and his family all knew that in reality they would pause once the Asgardians were gone before Laufey would use seidr and the powers of the Casket to conceal the Heart of Winter from the sight of all but Laufey and their immediate family.  They’d never risk it being stolen again.  Not by _anyone_.  To that end it would be as shielded as Laufey and later Loki and Frey could make it and kept hidden deep within the citadel where they lived in the dark forests of Jotunheim.

Never to be seen again by anyone not of the immediate line to the throne.

…

Loki commanded one of the Einherjar to remain and keep guard over the Bifrost while Heimdall went back with them to the palace, Heimdall as one of the accused being kept flanked at all times by the other members of the Einherjar, including General Tyr, once they returned immediately after Loki finished the formalities with King Laufey.

It was a long and silent ride through the city, most of the populace had already left for the throne room, though the occasion was much less joyous than that of the previous day.

Though with a people as often blood-thirsty as the Aesir, the chance of an execution or trial by combat was almost as good for their morale as crowning a new king.

Tyr and the Einherjar escorted Heimdall over to the sectioned off area for the accused, joining Sif and the Warriors Three, before taking his place as Asgard’s premier General to the right of the throne, Frigga already standing in her place at Loki’s left.  Odin’s brothers each stood beside Frigga and Tyr, Ve as the master of laws beside Tyr and Vili as the steward of Asgard beside Frigga.  Normally there would be others present, including Ve and Vili’s wives and other children, but with Fandral as one of the accused, even having Ve and Vili themselves in places of high importance was cutting it fine.  Also present on the dais was Brunnhilde the leader of the Valkyries beside Ve, and then Eir as the premier healer and magic user other than Frigga and Loki beside Vili, making for an even number of male and female council members, as was their custom, to give advice as needed and to ask questions of the accused when necessary.

Stamping Gungnir on the floor thrice, Loki called court to order before sitting and giving a nod to Ve.

“Charged with disobeying the express wishes of the All-Father, trespassing against the Jotnar-Aesir treaty, and treason: Lady Sif of Asgard, Lord Fandral of Asgard, Lord Hogun of Vanaheim, and Lord Volstagg of Asgard.”

Sif and the Warriors Three were brought forward, showing various degrees of contrition and remorse, from complete (Fandral), stoic acceptance (Hogun), to utterly shameless (Sif) with Volstagg falling somewhere between the extremes of the others.

“How do you plead?”  Loki asked with firm authority.

Fandral placed one hand on Sif’s sternum and shoved her back, stepping forward as the spokesman…though Sif clearly wasn’t on board with the idea.

“King Loki.”  Fandral began earnestly.  “While we all admit to knowingly trespassing against the treaty, none of us were aware of the All-Father having forbidden Thor to investigate the matter on Jotunheim.”

Hogun and Volstagg nodded in agreement, Sif crossing her arms over her chest and staying sullenly silent.

“And what of the charge of treason?”  Loki asked silkily.  “You followed my impetuous brother to a forbidden, _hostile_ , land that has long been in a state of flux.  As a result, dozens of Jotnar lives were taken and as weregild the All-Father was forced to hand over the Casket of Ancient Winters to maintain the brittle peace of the Nine Realms.  What defense, if any, do you give for that?”

“None.”  Sif snorted.  “They were only Jotnar.  The All-Father should have _never_ given weregild for the lives of enemies.”

“I see.”  Frigga said heavily, barely beating Loki to it.  “And the rest of you?”

“Prince Thor has long been our leader and our companion.”  Fandral said, voice wavering a moment.  “It is our charge to follow him and ensure his safety wherever he goes.  We had no choice but to follow him – even unto lawbreaking.”

“The prince has been exiled for his crimes against the Nine Realms by the All-Father himself.”  Loki said resolutely.  “And as one who has at times followed him, I understand your position.  _However_.”  His tone turned sharp, obliterating the relief that was spreading over three of the four faces.  “Did even _one_ of you attempt to alert the All-Father or even the Einherjar of the Prince’s treasonous and deadly plans?”

Hogun stepped forward and gave a crisp nod.  “As I have sworn to Queen Frigga, when I knew that the Prince would not be swayed, I alerted the Einherjar of the Prince’s plan.  I did not anticipate that it would take so long for the message to reach the All-Father’s ears.”

“Thank you, Hogun the Grim.”  Frigga nodded gracefully.  “You are as ever a true and loyal servant of the throne.”

Loki tapped one elegant finger on the throne, considering and discarding a multitude of punishments for the quartet.

“As it has become clear to me, while all of you were charged with the same crimes you are not all _guilty_ of the same crimes.”  A pleased murmur broke out over the crowded room as the Aesir found themselves anticipating what were sure to be _unique_ punishments.  “Hogun the Grim, step forward.”

The lean Vanir did so, head held high and expression stoic.

“The only crime the throne finds you guilt of was that of carrying out your sworn duty to protect the now-exiled Prince Thor.  You are free to go.”

A guardsman stepped forward and freed Hogun’s hands, which had only been bound once the accused were brought to their sectioned off waiting area, returning his weapons as well.  Hogun gave first Loki and then Frigga a deep bow, then took his place at the base of the throne steps, returning to his duty as a royal bodyguard.  Though _who_ he would guard now that his charge was banished to Earth was anyone’s guess.

“Fandral the Dashing and Volstagg the Valiant, step forward.”  The royal Aesir warrior did so, a bit of trepidation clear on his face.  Of them all, only Fandral had ever been any sort of friend to Loki, before they grew older and Fandral came to prefer training with the warriors to studying with his cleverest cousin.  “While you _are_ guilty of knowingly trespassing on Jotunheim, the offense was against the Jotnar, and that wound has been addressed.  However, a heavy fine was paid to the Jotnar from the royal family, one that cannot easily be replaced.  Your judgement is thus:” Loki leaned forward.  “Word has reached the throne of pack of bilgesnipe harrowing Vanaheim, you two will lead a force to vanquish them _however_ in lieu of spoils, all treasures and prizes won of this quest will become the property of the crown.”

Chatter broke out among the Aesir as the gravity of the punishment crested over them.  Questing was both a dangerous and _expensive_ affair, levied only by the great rewards found in the spoils.  Loki was all at once making them earn their freedom and lightening their pockets.  It was a clever and shrewd punishment in the wake of the loss of the Casket.

“And lastly, Lady Sif.”  Loki ignored the scowl he got for calling her a lady, the one title that she hated most but was unable to protest.  “You have been vocal in your disdain for our allies the Jotnar and have given no defense for the charge of treason, rather you have given great offense to the throne for your remarks.  Such behavior is,” he held in a smirk at the horror that was growing on her face as she guessed at what he was about to do.  _“Unworthy_ of a warrior of Asgard.  From this day forward you are _forbidden_ to pick up any warrior’s weapon, including the sword, spear, axe, mace, and hammer.  Moreover you are hereby discharged with disgrace from the forces of Asgard and are forbidden their ranks and company forever more.  You shall return to your mother’s estate in the northern plains and accept whatever match your parents deem fit for a disgraced daughter of the nobility.  So mote it be.”

He clanged Gungnir thrice more on the golden base of the throne as Sif, who had been stripped of her cloak and sigils of her rank, her sword kept by the guard to be given over to her parents, drew a dagger and attempted to charge up the steps and attack Loki, forgetting in her rage that one, daggers were Loki’s weapon of choice, and two, that Hogun the Grim as well as Ve, Vili, and Tyr, and two shield-maidens (or former shield-maidens in the case of Frigga) stood between them.

“Guards!  Arrest her!”  Frigga called out as Sif was wrestled to the floor by Hogun and Tyr.  “She attempted to attack the King of Asgard!  Treason!  Again!”

“No.”  Loki called out softly, silencing the cacophony that arose.  “There is no need to arrest her.  A double traitor has no place in Asgard.”  Rising to his feet, Loki in an eerie echo of Odin, leveled Gungnir on the subdued and bound form of Sif.  “Sif of Asgard, you have been found guilty of treason twice over.  Therefore, to my grief, I hereby strip you of all that made you Aesir.  You shall be mortal.  You shall be cast out.  And never again will you darken the halls of the Realm Eternal.”

Silence, deafening silence, as Gungnir glowed the shining gold and white, channeling the power of the Kings of Asgard.  A blast of pure magic slammed into the dark-haired former warrior, sending her sprawling once more.  When the glow dissipated, Hogun stood her up, Sif’s face being a picture of dazed confusion.

Motioning Eir over, Loki whispered.  “The spell has confused her.  She no longer has any memories of being Aesir…and all that entails.  Take her and keep her secluded in the plainest healing chamber until the trials are over and she can be sent to Midgard with a new identity.”

“Yes, my king.”  Eir bobbed a curtsey, giving no voice to her shock…and the accompanying awe.  She had no idea that the power of the King of Asgard was capable of such a thing.  Though she had to admit that it might simply be something uniquely _Loki_ merely amplified and made possible by the power boost of Gungnir.

Eir and a few guards escorted the dazed Sif out, then Loki retook his seat and nodded to Ve to call the charges against Heimdall, a bit dazed himself over the turn the day had taken.  He was aware that Sif hated the Jotnar but he had no idea it went so deep.  Nor did he ever think that her antipathy for himself would _ever_ boil over in such a monumentally _stupid_ fashion.  If she had waited, just the span of minutes it would take for Loki to finish with Heimdall, and confronted him in private, he would never have had to be so severe.

But unapologetic double treason?

The Aesir would have been baying for her _head_ if he’d allowed her to be imprisoned rather than take care of the matter immediately.  Now they all would be appeased.  Those who wanted her death would have it, as being made mortal was naught but a drawn-out execution.  But because he’d stayed his and Skurge’s hands, those who would want mercy for she was overwrought and a woman, would also be appeased.

It was all he could do for the once-sweet girl who’d stolen his first kiss.

“Heimdall the Gatekeeper: charged with knowingly aiding and abetting the crimes of treason and trespass, and being complicit in the illegal actions of Prince Thor and his company.”  Ve turned to the golden-eyed Watcher.  “How do you plead?”

“I am guilty as charged.”  Heimdall admitted before giving his one defense.  “In all my years watching over the Nine Realms, never has an enemy slipped my watch.  I wished to know how it was done and the prince promised me an answer upon his return from Jotunheim.”

“And did he provide one, Heimdall?”  Tyr asked, honestly curious but knowing as well as anyone that Thor had found nothing but trouble in the Winter realm.

“No, he did not.  I later came to find while watching a discussion between the All-Father and King Loki that it is believed to have a different origin than Jotunheim.”

“I wonder, Heimdall.”  Loki steepled his hands before his face.  “If you have ever knowingly withheld vital information from the All-Father before?”

“As part of my oath, unless it is a direct threat to the realm, I only answer those questions that are asked by the King of Asgard.”  Heimdall admitted.  “In that way, I am guilty of omitting information, as is entailed in my oath to protect the privacy of the Nine Realms as much as possible.”

There was shuffling among the Aesir as Loki and the others pondered the problem of what to do with Heimdall.

“Tell me, Heimdall,” Loki asked, cocking his head.  “You who have seen so much, including the events of this day, what do _you_ believe your punishment should be?”

The court was stunned.  Never in all their history had such a thing been asked of an accused and guilty party.  It was beginning to dawn on them all that they really had no _idea_ how to predict Loki, let alone a Loki who was King of Asgard.

“I have stood my watch for too long, Loki King.”  Heimdall admitted.  “If given the choice, I would surrender my post to one found better suited, and return to my post in the Einherjar.  I have watched dangers come and go too long, I wish to fight them instead.”

Now there was a sentiment that the Aesir could get behind, not that any of them were pleased by what was seen as giving up a sacred charge, but they all to a one understood his desire to return to being a fighter and warrior instead of the Gatekeeper.

“Very well, Heimdall.”  Loki nodded after conferring with Odin’s brothers, Tyr, and Frigga, Eir still with Sif.  “You shall return to your post and keep it until another is found to take up Hǫfuð in your stead.”

A trio of clangs rang through the throne room as the session of court was officially adjourned, Frigga and Loki immediately making for the healing chambers to finish dealing with Sif.

…

“Where shall I point the Bifrost, my King?”  Heimdall asked stoically, not even glancing at the unconscious form of his half-sister.  Sif had brought it on herself, and while there is some resentment in his heart for Loki visiting this upon her, Heimdall did prefer it to having to witness her execution.

Loki and Frigga had thought long and hard on what to do with Sif, where to send her, etc.

To that end they had implanted the ability to speak two languages: English and Swedish, as they were hoping Sweden would be a good place for a woman with Sif’s appearance and abilities.  Loki had given her a simple understanding of modern Midgardian tech, basic abilities to fight and spar and other things.  Like how to order food and use the Midgardian money system.

She didn’t have an identity that she could remember, though with Frigga’s help they’d conjured her a set of identification they’d placed in the inner pocket of her coat and made sure they lined up with information the police or doctors would find once she was discovered.

“We won’t be using the Bifrost, Heimdall.”  Loki answered, as he motioned for the Einherjar to set Sif down.  “I simply need you to point it at a populated part of Sweden, one where I can use my seidr to set her down and she’ll be quickly discovered.”

“At once, my King.”

…

Thor felt the fury of a thousand hammer-blows dancing inside of his skull as he came awake.

He’d had the most foul of night terrors, dreams of being cast from Asgard, cut off from his power and family, then wounded, attacked, and imprisoned by _Midgardians_ of all creatures.

Volstagg must have been experimenting with a new recipe for mead once again, or Thor had simply drunk a prodigious amount of the barkeep’s stock in celebration of his coming Kingship.  That was the only thing he could think of which would cause such foul images to float through his mind, let alone the great pain in both his mind and now that he was more aware, his body.  Perhaps he’d fought a mountain troll or some such creature as well and simply couldn’t remember through the haze of pain…

Then he opened his eyes.

Crying out, as the bright sunlight – yellow sunlight only, different than that of Asgard or even Vanaheim – cut into his mind, trebling his agony.

“Awake, then are you?”  He heard a strange voice ask.  “They must’ve given you one hells of a sedative to knock you out this long.  You probably have the hangover from hell between the fall, getting hit by a RV, being Taser’d, and then the commotion at the hospital.”

Thor peeled open one bright blue eye, staring dazed up at the speaker, a man with dark hair who looked at first glance, far too similar to his brother while looking nothing like him at all on second glance.

This man was larger for one thing, broader in his strange garments than Loki had ever been.  His hair was longer, an impressively complex braid falling forward over his shoulder.  And the voice was just…wrong.  Unless Loki has been shapeshifting again – and why he would shift into a shape that was so close to his own but with such clear mistakes, Thor couldn’t even begin to guess.

Seeing that Thor was still very out of it, Frey sighed and leaned farther over, peeling back the covers and gently tugging him into an upright and sitting position, watching for signs of panic as the massive blond former-god peered around the hotel room with varying degrees of stress and confusion.

For an Aesir as out-of-touch with Earth as his father’s adoptive brother, Frey imagined a hotel room would be scarcely less panic-inducing than the RV or hospital had been.

Especially directly following a severe trauma…like, say, having your godhood and immortality forcibly torn from your very being.

Which, Frey had to say, was supremely fucked up.

 _How_ Odin managed it, Frey couldn’t even begin to guess, though from what Loki had mentioned of the power increase he’d gotten from Gungnir, he’d wager it had something to do with either the spear itself or being King of Asgard.

Zeus, no matter how hacked off, would never do something like that to even his most despised of children, nor would Kronus.

Oh, they’d _kill_ them, no problem, but they wouldn’t take everything _Other_ from them and leave them to die a slow painful death as a mortal.

And when the two poster-boys for bad fatherhood wouldn’t do what Odin just did, that said a _lot_ about the All-Father’s A+ Parenting techniques.

That Thor hadn’t yet lashed out at Frey was a win in his book.  One that he could probably attribute to Thor having had a nice, long, twelve-hour sleep to process everything.  Though…the day was still early…ish.

“I am on Midgard…aren’t I?”  Thor finally asked in a subdued tone, much quieter than his audience expected considering as so far he’d only heard him have one volume: SHOUT.

“Yes.”  Frey told him simply.  “Do you remember what happened?”

“Yes,” Thor nodded, eyes dazed and lost, making images of puppies dance through Frey mind for a moment before he quashed them. 

Lost and confused, even good-hearted Thor might be but he was also deadly.  To forget that would be to underestimate him, a lesson Frey had learned the hard way during his early years fighting first as a young hero versus various monsters, including the one who murdered the Potters, and then against Kronus and Gaea.  He might be mostly retired from the hero-game, having more than paid his dues in his home universe, but somethings never entirely went away.

Survival instincts beaten into him – gently – by his father and guardians were one of those things.

Thor continued, expressions of loss, grief, and deep perplexity flashing across his face, along with a few things Frey didn’t yet know him well enough to categorize.

“I was foolish, and as stupid and thoughtless as ever my brother had accused me of being in the pursuit of my own wants.  I led my friends into great danger…I still don’t know if Fandral survived his wounds.  The All-Father took my godhood from me and cast me out…cast me here.  From there…”  Thor trailed off closing his eyes and shaking his head.  “I believe myself to have been in shock and injured from the fall for I do not have a clear recollection of what came next other than pain and confusion before waking up here with you.”  Thor cocked his head, studying the other man a moment.  “You look…so familiar.  As if I _should_ know you but I do not.”

Frey turned that over in his head a moment.  His father wanted him to keep Thor out of trouble – as much as possible for a hot-headed and impulsive former-god, anyway.  And if there was one thing he’d gathered about Thor from his father’s tales it was that Thor clung tightly to bonds of family and friendship.

He was loyal to his bones, sometimes to his detriment when it prevented him from fully utilizing his brain and _thinking_ before acting.

“You should.”  Frey said after a long moment, a familiar smirk curling over his face.  “Since you and many of your friends and family watched me for years.  I believe you called me the Warrior-Mage of Midgard?”

“What?”  Thor laughed in joy, eyes shining as the recognition slotted into place.  “Yes!  Yes, that’s it!  But…”  He frowned in consternation.  “Father didn’t throw me clear into another universe…did he?”

“No, no you’re on _your_ Midgard.”  Frey reassured him.  “If I’m not mistaken there was quite a bit of betting over my…ah… _origins_ on Asgard?”

“Yes,” Thor nodded, shoulders relaxing at the news that he was still, if not _home_ , at least not so far away as to be under the purview of another pantheon.  And the young mage before him was at least familiar even if he wasn’t entirely _known_ either.  “We knew, after a time, that you must be a child of the gods but none was ever named for certainty other than having some legacy from Thanatos.  The pot on _that_ is still standing and has grown over the years, though Loki only agrees to tune the scrying pools to you rarely now that you are busy with your children and your Midgard mostly at peace.”

“I’d guess watching me help the kids with homework doesn’t make for scintillating entertainment.”  Frey responded with no-little bitterness over the continual invasions of privacy he suffered until he grew powerful enough to shield himself on his own account so he didn’t risk his father being discovered as, well, his father.  “Long story short: while my mother and James, even Thanatos all had a part in my birth, I _did_ have an actual divine parent.  One from _this_ multiverse.  We keep in contact.  He – and I – felt rumblings and whispering of change and turmoil similar to what occurred in my home before the blood wars and the upheaval Olympus dealt with.  I set myself up here and _commute_ between universes, spending school breaks with my kids and am here most of the rest of the time.  When the Bifrost activated I felt it, investigated, and found _you_.”

“Thank you for freeing me from that strange _hospital_.”  Thor said after thinking that glut of information over.  A big part of him had a suspicion about just _who_ that divine parent was – or rather, _is_ – but he’d leave it for now.  Information he didn’t possess was information he wouldn’t be forced to part with.

And if his suspicion was correct…then his beloved brother would be in more trouble with the All-Father than even _Thor_ was at the moment.

Loki was strictly forbidden from siring offspring due to the prophecy of Ragnarok.

So long as Odin was the King of Asgard, his brother could be imprisoned or _worse_ for siring a child, let alone one as powerful as the Warrior-Mage had been known to be…and with mages, they generally only became _more_ powerful with years and study.

While Thor desperately wanted to know if the great hero, the Titan-Slayer, was in fact his brother’s son, he would ignore his curiosity.  His impetuousness had already cost him far too much.  And endangered the rest of his loved ones.  He wouldn’t put _this_ possible beloved one at risk as well.

“Your…parent.”  Thor asked slowly.  “Have they given you any word of what passes in Asgard?”

“We speak regularly.”  Frey told him from where he’d gone to dig through a bag, taking out some clothing and setting it on the bed beside Thor.  “Those should be close to your size and I can fix them once they’re on you.”  He said in an aside before continuing.  “I haven’t heard from _them_ today but last word was that after your banishment, Odin called the Thing together where he announced that with his sleep coming and you banished, Loki was to be King and Regent of Asgard for the standard term.  Loki took an oath and was given Gungnir, then explained the terms of the new treaty with Jotunheim that he and Odin forged to prevent war from falling upon the Nine Realms.”

Thor blew out a breath.  “Good.”  He said to himself.  “That’s good.  A treaty and Loki…Loki will be a good king.”

“That’s the consensus from what I understand.”  Frey nodded in agreement.  “No one is particularly _happy_ about yesterday’s events but as things stand they’re at least content with Asgard’s security being persevered.  Loki, Frigga, and General Tyr are still investigating the Vault breach.  Also…”  Frey trailed off, uncertain how well Thor would take the last news.

“Yes?”  Thor’s head snapped around from where he was fiddling with the offered clothes.  “What is it?  Is it my friends?  Was Fandral…?”

“They’re fine, well,” Frey corrected himself.  “They’re _healthy_ anyway.  All your actions – and Heimdall’s for aiding and abetting the five of you – have been deemed treasonous.  They were to stand trial today as soon as the treaty with Jotunheim has been ratified.”  Frey gave him a _slightly_ sympathetic look as Thor became the picture of utter devastation.  “Your banishment has been declared your punishment.  Now they have to face their own.  Come on.”  Frey nudged Thor onto his feet.  There was no point in letting the Aesir – former Aesir? – stew in his juices.  It was too late to hit the complimentary breakfast but Frey knew he’d seen a handful of small mom-and-pop places the night before.  Death-knew that Frey could do with something himself.  “I’ll show you how to work Earth bathing appliances.”

“Midgardian.”  Thor corrected absently as he took the clothes Frey picked back up and handed over to him.

“ _Earth_.”  Frey corrected him back firmly.  “You’re here now, and mortal.  So far no one has tracked you down but you better believe there are going to be people asking questions after the lightshow the Bifrost made and then the scene at the hospital.  If you want to stay a free man, and _not_ be locked in a lab somewhere while getting poked and prodded by scientists, then you need to learn to blend…and fast.  So it’s Earth.”  Frey ushered Thor into the bathroom.  “I’ll go over the cover I’ve whipped up for you after you’ve gotten cleaned up and I’ve put something on those burns and bruises.  You’re mortal now, Thor.”  His tone turned understanding.  “And that’s a world of difference from being Aesir – in more ways than just the obvious.”

…

“Okay, tell it again.”  Frey commanded an hour later as they drove down the main drag of Puente Antiguo, the small New Mexico town that Thor and Mjolnir had crash landed outside of…not that Frey had offered up that last bit yet.

“My name is Dr. Thor Adamson.”  Thor repeated for the dozenth time with only a bit of frustration.  He understood that his helper, _Frey_ – which really, Loki was just _asking_ to be found out with naming his maybe-son after Loki’s favorite uncle Freyr – had his best interests at heart.  But Thor much preferred learning through action and interaction than mindless memorization.  It was one reason why he and Loki had ended up on such different paths, Loki as a diplomat and scholar _had_ to have a prodigious memory for facts and faces, while Thor’s hands-on approach made him an excellent warrior.  “You are my friend and former shield-brother…”

“Fellow soldier if you must reference it at all.”  Frey interrupted him gently, _again_ , over Thor using an Aesir term in place of the ones Frey provided in their place.  All-Speak was excellent at what it did but there were some things that just didn’t translate well or correctly like monikers and idioms.  “Battle-buddy would work as well.”

“Battle-buddy.”  Thor nodded with a musing tone, finding the term rather appropriate.  “Dr. Frey Black.  We both served in the Norwegian Navy, then after leaving I finished my _doctorate_ in Anthropology specializing in Viking-era Norse culture and heritage.  I flew into _Boston_ to visit you when pictures of Norse sigils were found in the New Mexico desert and I joined you to investigate.”

Thor had no idea how Frey arranged all of it, and made a note to ask him later as the former crown prince assumed that Frey, like Loki, would have made sure that the story would pass even the most fearsome of scrutiny.

“Good.”  Frey said as he turned into the parking lot.  “And you were found in the desert…?”

Honestly, this part had been the most entertaining part of it all for Frey, and the most irritating for Thor as he feels it impugns his manhood…or something, Frey assumed from the _look_ he’d gotten when he’d told it to Thor.

“I don’t _fly well_.”  Thor muttered grumpily.  “And took a mixture of alcohol and _medication_ that made me act out of character.”

“The hospital?”

“Distress from flashbacks of battle.”  That part Thor had no problem with, knowing it was a common problem all warriors dealt with…and was half-true besides.  “I didn’t know where I was and assumed I was captured by a hostile force.”

“Good.”  Frey said again as they climbed out of the car.  Explaining cars and seat belts had been one of the top things on Frey’s list after common Earth manners and customs…at least for the U.S. and how to do normal things like order food and use both money and credit cards.  Thor picked it up quicker than Frey would’ve thought, proving there was a brain under all that hair after all despite him not being as in-your-face intelligent as Frey’s father.  “That should cover all but the nosiest of people, and I won’t be leaving you alone any time soon so I can fill in anything that you don’t know.”

“Very well.”  Thor refrained from a sigh.  “ _Now_ may we feast?”

“Yes, Thor.”  Frey rolled his eyes behind the blonde’s back.  “Now we can have some lunch.”

A thought occurred to the former Prince, Thor looking back over his shoulder and asking:

“Your words have implied that humans keep great records of all things, will not they question my removal from their hospital?”

“Covered.”  Frey said as he reached around Thor and pulled open the door, lowering his voice as he swept his gaze over the occupants of the restaurant.  He’d gotten the name of the place from the receptionist as having decent prices with large portions, exactly what they’d need to feed an immortal and a former-Aesir, quarter-Aesir, quarter-Jotun, and half-Vanir if one was being technical, which was one of the reasons most people of Asgard identified more readily as Asgardian given many of them were of similarly mixed-heritage.  “I took care of all the records and everything to keep you under the radar last night while you slept, not just the ID, passport, and bank cards in the wallet I gave you.”

Frey nodded at the smiling waitress, holding up two fingers and then pointing at an empty booth that would allow him to put his back to the wall and watch the doors and room at once.  She nodded once and picked up menus and silverware bundles, heading their way as Thor asked another question.

“How is it you know how to do such things, raised among seidr as you were?”

“I wasn’t just a hero or a wizard, Thor.”  Frey answered patiently, sliding into the booth.  “We learned how to blend in with mundane society, and when my kids started primary school I would help at the Camp or the Ministry if they needed me among my _other_ travels.  I know how to do all kinds of things that keep things like us,” he waved a hand between them.  “Out of the view and attention of those who can’t or shouldn’t know about it.”

The waitress made it over to them after crisscrossing the room, saving Frey from what was sure to be yet another question.

“Hi there!”  The brunette waitress greeted them, setting down the menus and silverware.  “I’m Shelly and I’ll be your waitress today, any drinks to get y’all started?”

“Thank you, Shelly.”  Frey smiled up charmingly, with just a hint of a Scandinavian accent suddenly appearing in his voice.  “I’ll have water and coffee, the same for my friend?”  He arched a prompting brow at Thor who nodded with one of his bright smiles that visibly dazed the twenty-something woman for a minute before she smiled back and left to fill their drink orders.

“What should I order?”  Thor asked lowly as he hesitantly opened his menu, echoing Frey’s movements.

Frey quickly scanned the offerings, easily making a decision.

“We don’t know what your appetite or anything is like anymore.”  He said far too quietly to be overheard by anyone but Thor, keeping an eye on the trio that just walked in.  Something about them tickled at his memory but he didn’t know why, _yet_.  “I’ll order first, the steak and eggs, when she turns to you just say you’ll have the same.  If she asks how you like your eggs the omelet or scrambled are least likely to give you problems.  When she asks how you want your steak…”  He gave a little grin.  “If you’re anything like my parent says you are then tell her you’ll take it rare, okay?”

“The same, omelet, rare.”  Thor nodded, eyes sharp.  “Very well.  What is this drink you’ve ordered for me?”

“Coffee: roasted, ground, and then boiled and strained beans from a plant.  It’s one of the most popular beverages in this country.  It’s usually bitter when plain, just take a sip and if it’s _too_ bitter for you she’ll bring packets of cream and sugar that can be used to alter the taste to your liking.  We’re considered foreigners so it won’t be odd if it takes you a minute to make it to your preferences.”

As Frey finished speaking Shelly reappeared with the order including a pair of mugs and a carafe of coffee for the table, as well as the cream and sugar Frey had expected.  She chattered a moment as she set the beverages in the middle of the table then took their orders, arching a brow over the order for the 16-ounce steaks but after eyeing their shoulders a minute just shook it off.  With the fitness craze in the States she probably thought they were body builders or something, which Thor could certainly pass as.

“Thor.”  Frey murmured after a moment, eyes seeming to idly skim over the other diners but in reality focusing on the newest trio.  “Do you recognize them?”

The blond turned his head calmly, as if he was studying the décor, taking his cue from the other man as he’d often done from Loki when trying to keep a low profile.  It wasn’t often they the two princes would avoid a scene, but sometimes even Thor got tired of attention.  And it was those times that he’d join his brother in seeking out quiet book sellers or nearly-hidden gems of eateries, both enjoying the near-anonymity they provided.

“It is hard to say with the shock and disorientation.”  Thor said after a moment, taking another sip of the coffee, which he liked very much indeed with the cream and sugar.  “But I believe they were the mortals that hit me with their conveyance and then moments later the younger female turned some sort of small weapon on me that caused great pain and then unconsciousness.”

“It’s called a Taser.”  Frey said, smirking, earning himself a scowl from his companion.  “Those two small burns on your chest are from the probes striking you.  It works by conducting electricity into your body…a smaller, less powerful version of Mjolnir if you would.”

“Mjolnir.”  Thor said mournfully, staring down sadly into his coffee mug that was dwarfed by his larger hands.  “I miss her the most, second only to my family and longtime companions.”

“Hmm.”  Frey hummed under his breath, arching a brow in amusement as a cavalcade of black SUV’s with flashing police lights roared pass the diner.  “Looks like they government has finally made it to town.”

“The peacekeepers and researchers you warned me of?”  Thor asked, peering out the window at the vehicles, one of which turned off from the others into town while the others kept speeding onwards into the desert.

“Most likely SHIELD.”  Frey sipped from his coffee, keeping one eye on the trio in the diner and watching for the waitress to return.  “Maybe another, but not probable.  SHIELD handles just about everything _Other_ for this government and a few others.”

SHIELD was an interesting beast from Frey’s perspective, reminding him very much of a combination of the CIA and the Department of Mysteries with a little Hit Wizardry or FBI thrown into the mix for giggles.  There was nothing like it on his home world, it seemed to be a phenomenon singular to the multiverse controlled via Yggdrasil.  Honestly, he found it simply _fascinating_ that different universes had unique occurrences and beings in them.  Some were found all over, the ideas of multiple deities, the Nomad God was ridiculously common, exploration and innovation.  But others were _singular_ , and it tickled Frey every time he found another.

Thor nodded, thinking on that, only to be interrupted by the arrival of his long-awaited first meal on Earth in the last thousand years.


	5. Chapter Four

** The Frost Prince **

**Chapter Four – Sorcerers, Scientists, and SHIELD**

“Sir, I’ve found something interesting.”  A woman in a dark blue suit rushed over to her superior who was overseeing the creation of their mobile base around the alien artifact.

Agent Phil Coulson took the tablet from the junior agent.  “Go on.”

“There was a case last night at the local hospital.  A naked man brought in with impact injuries and taser marks.  He was checked out and released to his friend later.  What was interesting.”  The agent flipped to another screen.  “Was _who_ brought him in: a pair of astrophysicists who I looked up.  They’re studying something called an Einstein-Rosen bridge.”

Phil studied the brief synopsis of Drs. Jane Foster and Erik Selvig and the phenomena they were studying – or trying to study anyway.

A phenomenon that would theoretically be used to move something or someone faster than light.

“Locate their base here.”  Coulson ordered.  “I want a team there within the hour and every piece of information on their work in SHIELD hands by 1500.”

“Yes, _sir!_ ”

…

Frey was keeping one ear on the trio gathered around a book in the center of their table and was growing increasingly concerned.

Apparently Thor had told them more than he’d thought in his shock and confusion, perhaps rambling while held in the grip of unconsciousness.

The man, in his fifties or sixties if Frey was right, had found a book of Norse mythology and had spoken of how he’d recognized some of the things Thor had said – including his name – in the aftermath of what the trio – who were scientists from what Frey could tell, or at least the older two were – were calling the “event”…meaning the Bifrost opening.

Very much not good.

Especially if they recognized Thor.

Granted, he looked different dressed in modern clothing instead of clad in only his skin, with his hair brushed and tied back, but not _that_ different.

Scientists and researchers were the _worst_ when it came to asking questions that caused problems with keeping secrets _secret_.  It came with the territory, Frey supposed.  He’d studied political science and law for college after Hogwarts and being free – at least a little – to live his life, but he’d had to take several sections of the “hard” sciences for his degrees.  He remembered very well the sorts of questions they were trained to ask to advance the field.

Questions that were a pain in the _ass_ if you were a Ministry consultant trying to cover up a breach of the Statute or in this case an alien former-god suddenly appearing in the New Mexico desert.

“Where'd you find this?”  The older woman asked.

“The children's section. I just wanted to show you how silly his story was.”  The man, Erik, answered her, face half-concerned and half-patronizing.

She didn’t take that well from what Frey saw.  “But you're the one who's always pushing me to chase down every possibility, every alternative.”

“I'm talking about science, not magic.”  Erik snorted derisively but his younger companion wasn’t dismayed yet.

“Well, "magic's just science we don't understand yet." Arthur C. Clarke.”  The woman, Jane, pointed out.

It was a good point to Frey, but a bad one when it comes to keeping what was supposed to be secret _secret_ from a scientist who seemed determined to find it.  Damn Thor and his damn big mouth.  Which was currently being stuffed with a round of pancakes that the two of them had ordered after finishing their steak and eggs, to the shock and amusement of the waitress.  Either the former-Aesir had kept his appetite or he was just _that_ hungry.

Erik was clearing exasperated.  “Who wrote science-fiction, Jane!”

“A precursor to science fact!”  She shot back smugly, her audience – not that she was aware of his eavesdropping – smothering a chuckle.

Oh, he _liked_ her.  Too bad she was such a big damn security breach.  Possibly.  It depended on what she did with the information she had or _thought_ she’d discovered thanks to Thor.

“In some cases, yeah.”  Erik sighed, the younger woman, Darcy, muffling a giggle at her boss winning another round against him.

“Well, if there's an Einstein-Rosen bridge, then there's something on the other side. And advanced beings could have crossed it!”

“Oh, Jane…”

Darcy piped up to defend her boss against the other scientist.  “A primitive culture like the Vikings might have worshiped them as deities.”

“Yes! Yes, exactly. Thank you.”

They had no _idea_ how right – and very _wrong_ at the same time – they were with that last bit.

Thor noticed his companion’s preoccupation.

“What is it?”

Frey still couldn’t get over that Thor actually _had_ an inside voice.  Maybe it was because of seeing him in person for the first time while constantly shouting, or that all of his father’s tales were mostly of fuck-ups or adventures, but he’d expected the other man to be boisterous…constantly.  Like a golden retriever permanently locked into puppy-dom.  But he supposed being banished and stripped of your power would be mood-dampening to anyone, even the Thunderer.

“Your words from last night have been taken somewhat seriously it seems.”  Frey answered him after a moment as the scientists continued to bicker.  “One thinks you were full of hot air or delusional, the other sees it as an actual possibility, and the third is alternately egging on her boss and trying to keep the peace.”  Frey chuckled as he picked up the check and rose to walk to the register and pay their bill.  “Interesting company you landed in with them.”

Thor just gave a helpless shrug and followed along at Frey’s heels, watching a pair of dirty men who looked like they’d been working hard in the fields or at some such labor enter the diner talking loudly while Frey went through the motions of paying with the plastic technology Midgardians used.

The two men’s voices carried over to the counter easily, neither man even attempting to go unheard by those around them.

“I’m tellin’ you it must some kinda ancient alien thing or somethin’!”  Bubba number one exclaimed.  “Why else would government suits come and take over, tryin’ to keep everythin’ all hush hush?”

Bubba number two snorted.

“Probably more like somethin’ that Stark fella created and lost track of.  New machinery or somthin’ Burt.  It’s _just_ a damn hammer for all that it’s stuck in the ground…”

Thor ignored the rest of the conversation was the serving maid went to see to the now quieter pair, forgetting to keep his own voice down in his excitement.

“Mjolnir!”  He cried, Frey whipping around and staring at him in surprise.  “Frey, they’ve found Mjolnir!  I must reclaim her!”

“Mjolnir?”  Erik Selvig murmured, eyeing them skeptically while his two companions spun in their seats.

“Oh fuck.”  Frey groaned under his breath, swiping up his card and grabbing onto Thor’s shirt, towing him hastily out of the diner before the trio of scientists could waylay them.

Frey had them in their car and gone before Jane could climb to her feet and catch them, leaving the woman fuming visibly outside the diner as they disappeared in a roar of the SUV’s powerful engine.

…

“Hells, you can be an _idiot_.”  Frey groused, finishing off his rant on Thor’s impulsive act of stupidity in the diner as they pulled back into the hotel parking lot.

“So my brother has oft complained, yes.”  Thor pouted grumpily, sit fuming over Frey’s highhanded refusal to go investigate Mjolnir’s presence on Earth immediately.

“Look, Thor.”  Frey sighed, turning off the ignition and spinning to face the former-Aesir.  “It’s not that I don’t understand what you’re going through – I do.  Or that I don’t think you should at least _try_ to reclaim your hammer.  But for the love of Yggdrasil, you need to _think!_   It was thoughtless actions and thoughtless words that have led you to this state, Thor!  More of the same are hardly going to inspire faith in you having learned your lesson or whatever the All-Father wants from this course.”

Thor set his jaw obstinately, turning to exit the SUV with a slam of the door.  He was well aware of all of Frey’s points.  He truly was.  But that didn’t make shaking off a lifetime of habits _easy_ , let alone in the matter of a day.  Thor was a creature of action, his abilities focused almost solely on battle tactics and strategy, not discerning plots within plots the way Frey and his own brother were clearly capable of.

To Thor, his banishment seemed depressingly _final_ rather than a chance to make amends.

But Frey – and given Thor’s suspicions of his parent and contact – and Loki clearly believe otherwise.

Whether that was from information gleaned from the All-Father himself or their own deductions, Thor was unsure.

“Alright, alright, _look_ , just wait a second.”  Frey jogged to keep up with Thor’s irritation-fueled stride as they made their way back to their room.  “At _least_ will you learn a bit about the dangers you court with this course of action before running off half-cocked?”

Thor slowed, his hand on the lever of the room door as he worked the mechanism with the flimsy card the other man had given him earlier after showing him how it worked.  Turning he cocked his head, eyeing Frey curiously.

“You mean these _experimenters_ or _threat investigators_ you have spoken of… _constantly_?”

Frey narrowed his eyes, muttering under his breath about _tone_ while pushing passed the larger man.  Inside the room he pulled out his laptop from its case and booted it up.  A connection to the internet via the hotel’s wifi and Frey found the couple of short documentaries he had in mind to beat the idea of _caution among humans_ into Thor’s head.

He got it, really he did.

Thor was several thousand years old.  Older if he’d done any traveling to other universes the way Loki and Frey both had.  Which Frey thought might be possible with Mjolnir the way he and his father used their heritage from Ymir.  And for all of those years, he’d been damn-near unbeatable and indestructible.

Framed that way, the idea of _humans_ hurting him probably seemed ludicrous, even with his Aesir abilities and powers stripped away.

The ultimate Asgardian warrior, Thor still had thousands of years of combat training under his belt, training so extensive that one-on-one, there probably _wasn’t_ anyone on the planet who could take him in a fight.

One on one.

But considering some of the weapons Thor was likely clueless about, and the habits covert operations like SHIELD had of using traps and swarming metahumans like the Hulk or Magneto, Frey had zero doubt that they’d be able to take him down…it would just result in massive damages likely to both them _and_ Thor.

And while Frey would find a show of that caliber highly entertaining – and given Thor’s bloodlust in the past, rather deserved – Loki probably wouldn’t find it nearly as funny if Frey let his adoptive brother get cuffed-and-stuffed by federal agents.

Motioning Thor into the chair at the desk where he’d set up the computer, he started the playlist, setting the volume low enough that it wouldn’t disturb him while he worked on his phone to see just how much attention this whole clusterfuck has gathered in the last twenty-four hours.

“What is this?”  Thor questioned as the opening credits rolled for the first documentary.

“It’s called a video or a movie.”  Frey answered absently as he opened the web browser on his phone.  “Like a play or message recorded for later viewing.  The ones I’ve queued for you are fact-based research to both entertain and inform called documentaries.  In this case, ones on human experimentation revolving around the onset of human mutation, one on the American penal system, and the last is about Guantanamo Bay, where they take more political prisoners or those guilty of terrorism.”  Frey shot the now-intrigued Thor a glance from emerald eyes.  “It’s not quite what would happen if SHIELD considered you a threat or an unscrupulous person discovered your origins but it’s the closest I can come at the moment.”

“Very well.”  Thor responded, already getting sucked into the opening monologue.  “I will study these closely before venturing out to reclaim Mjolnir.”

“That’s all I ask.”  Frey shot back dryly.  “That if you’re going to be an impulsive idiot at least you’ll be an _informed_ impulsive idiot.”

Frey disappeared into the bathroom for a moment.  He’d never get over that certain bodily functions had just been virtually eliminated when he froze into his immortality.  Apparently, one of the never-mentioned perks of having an immortal metabolism was that it used up _everything_ it was given as fuel, making it a highly-tuned system that created little to no waste, especially if he kept to a clean diet.  A diet that was almost impossible on any version of Earth in the similar era that he called home, however, meaning that Frey had to deal with the necessities more than an immortal living elsewhere or else _when_ than him at the moment.

Olympus didn’t even _have_ toileting facilities, simply ones for bathing, their bodies and diet so in tune with each other.

 _That_ had been a cause of some consternation for Annabeth when Zeus had her take out all the facilities she’d added into her new design of Olympus after Kronus and his minions trashed the place.

Splashing some water on his face after he’d finished and washed his hands, Frey leaned his back against the counter and checked his messages, not finding anything particularly interesting, then slipping it back into his pocket.  He’d reentered the room and made sure Thor was still where he was supposed to be when he heard a chiming coming from another pocket in his jacket.  A chime he knew very well, and which belonged to his enchanted mirror.

Taking it out, he gave a relieved smile at the green flash of Loki’s rune on the crystal surface.  Knowing that Loki would know he was there but waiting to answer, Frey called out to Thor that he was going down to the dining area off the lobby for a bit to get some work done and to please “for the love of Yggdrasil, stay _put_ ,” before putting action to words and leaving the suite.  An easy lope had him in the elevator and downstairs, the mirror already enchanted a long time ago to look like a tablet or large smartphone, case included.

Frey easily set it up to stand hands-free and put some “ear-buds” in that would make anyone listening think he was wearing a headset with mic, then put up a one-way ward that would keep anyone from eavesdropping.

The mirror lit up again a moment later, Frey tapping one finger on the crystal to connect the two, smiling easily at the harassed look on his father’s face.

“Not so great to be King?”  He asked innocently, only to snicker at the dirty look Loki shot him, complete with a raised middle finger, the god of Mischief having picked up the gesture _years_ ago from watching over Frey while he was at school or training at Camp.

…

Phil Coulson oversaw the agents clearing the rather impressive research complied by Dr. Jane Foster, who had had only nominal help from her father’s old friend Dr. Erik Selvig and a poli-sci major serving as her intern.

It was times like _this_ where he was forced to shut down the little guys like Foster – who didn’t have the money, connections, or influence like that kept Tony Stark running around in a WMD – that he hated his job.

Yes, it was for the public good that no one discovered a possible inter-galactic security breach…of some kind…at least that was what the SHIELD scientists were currently raving about, but that a single PhD from Culver U was closer to discovering advanced alien transportation that all the government-funded think-tanks was simply amazing.

More so, in Phil’s opinion, than anything up-himself genius Reed Richards had ever pulled off.

One genius, equipment slapped together with gum and tin-foil, and Dr. Foster was within a hairsbreadth of proving her science.

He truly hoped she was the sort that might be willing to take another sort of employment.

After all, SHIELD had better resources and equipment than Culver U could afford to hand out to a single astrophysicist.

A vehicle squealed to a stop, three bodies pouring out and running at the sight of the black SUV’s and agents climbing all over the trailer.

“Hey!”  Dr. Foster shouting.  “What the _hell_ are you guys doing?!  This is private property…”  She cut off with a gasp as a very familiar piece of equipment was carted off into an open van, agents closing around the trio.  “ _That’s_ my equipment!  _What_ are you _doing?_ ”

“Agent Coulson, ma’am.”  Phil said smoothly as he came to a stop as his agents started patting down the group and confiscating absolutely _anything_ that looked like it might hold information or data.  “With the Strategic Homeland…”

“SHIELD.”  Dr. Selvig cut him off curtly.  “You’re with SHIELD.  Cut the speech, what interest does a group that handles all things out of the _ordinary_ want with us?”

“And my research!”  Dr. Foster cried out, as another agent relieved her of the laptop bag, her intern giving a brief fight over her iPod.

“I’m afraid that’s classified.”

“Where’s your warrant?”  Dr. Foster demanded.  “You can’t just come in here and _take_ all of my work!  This is the U.S.!”

“They’re SHIELD, Jane.”  Selvig scrubbed his hands over his face.  “I’m afraid they can.  And if we fight them on it _we_ might end up being of interest to them and not just the equipment and data…isn’t that right, Agent Coulson?”  He sneered, as Jane and Darcy’s eyes shot wide, sharing a troubled look at that implication.

Coulson gave them a sympathetic smile but didn’t deny the assertion, simply saying:

“We’re the good guys, Dr. Foster.”  Phil told her, reining in the sarcasm he felt that statement rather deserved at the moment.  “You’ll be compensated for everything we’ve seized.”

“Compensated?”  Jane spluttered.  “Compensated?  For my entire _life’s work_?  What the hell kind of _compensation_ do you think will make up for the U.S. government’s Men-In-Black waltzing in here and _stealing_ everything I’ve devoted my life to?”

Phil handed his card over to Dr. Selvig, having judged him pragmatic enough to coax Foster into taking the offer when she wasn’t so wound up.  Within minutes the operation was complete and Coulson was striding over toward his SUV to return to their temporary base when the spunky intern shouted at his back.

“Hey!  If you’re so interested in our stuff you should _probably_ go check out those _other_ doctors that were out in the desert last night!”

“Darcy!”  Jane hissed as Coulson just climbed into his SUV and drove away.  “Why did you do that?!  You know Thor – or whoever – is our only lead on this.  Especially now that they’ve taken all of my research.  Everything.  Just gone.”

“They even took my iPod.”  Darcy muttered, rolling her eyes.  “I just downloaded like 30 songs.  But we studied the SRS and SHIELD for my thesis on the place of secret agencies in modern government.  They’re scary, Jane.  And if they’re after Thor or Mew-Mew or whatever…then we should let them, get out of their sights, and find _another_ way to continue your work.”

“I never thought I’d say this.”  Selvig drawled, eyeing the mouthy twenty-something.  “But Darcy’s right.  I didn’t imply that they might sweep us off to one of their bunkers for nothing Jane.  I had a friend once who knocked heads with SHIELD.”

“Yeah?”  Darcy asked, perking up.  Her professor had made them sound _wicked_ …though whether good or bad seemed to depend on how long of a view you were willing to take.  They didn’t play around.  “What happened to him?”

“Let me put it this way…”  Erik said with dark humor.  “He works at Office Max now.  In a couple years he’ll _maybe_ make supervisor.”

…

“I’ll see to it, Father.”  Frey promised, speaking of making sure Sif’s identity held up to scrutiny, having made notes on where Loki left her in Sweden and what identification he’d given her.  “It’ll take an hour or two for everything to be finalized, but it’ll be done.”

“ _Thank_ you, my little prince.”  Loki smirked a bit at Frey’s nose wrinkle over the childhood nickname.  His heir had outgrown him over a decade ago after all – if one counted by the years that have passed on Frey’s world of birth.  But Loki was still his father, and never letting your children forget that you once diapered them and knew all their most embarrassing antics was just _one_ perk of parenthood.

“What about the rogue sorcerer?”  Frey asked, already typing away on his phone as he used it as a conduit for his magic to plant the information his father requested to smooth things over for the now mortal-and-amnesiac Sif.  “Any progress?”

“The signature wasn’t fully Aesir.”  Loki told him with a grimace.  Not that that narrowed the pool down to a manageable number, but it was still better than having to comb through every _single_ seidr user in Asgard.  “But it was _partially_ Aesir.”

“Which clears both full Aesir and full foreigners.”  Frey mused, scratching at his chin.  “Unless the foreigners know how to use Aesir magic to the extent that it’s become part of them.  Which would be who?  Frigga?  No one else right?”

“Not officially, no.”  Loki agreed.  “But as we _both_ are aware…”  He laughed lightly.  “Magic-users can be damn secretive.  But there’s not many who would have any sort of motive for spoiling Thor’s coronation and risking war breaking out.  A few names come to mind that I have the Einherjar and Mother keeping an eye on.  Heimdall as well until a new Gatekeeper can be chosen and the Far-Sight transferred to its new host.”

“Don’t envy you having to make that choice.”  Frey said with no little amount of sympathy.  “Part of the problem is the Gatekeeper needing to be truly impartial, which ended up being Heimdall’s downfall when he began to make judgement calls and acting alone.”

“Quite.”  His father grimaced.  “Take care of yourself, my beloved son.  And don’t let that lummox irritate you _too_ much.  Eventually he’ll recover from the shock of his changed circumstances and do something that’ll have you wanting to wring his neck…trust me, I know from experience.”

“I’m kinda waiting for the other shoe to drop, honestly.”  Frey sighed.  “He’s been a little _too_ compliant and obliging for a spoiled prince – as both of our personal fuck-ups when running into circumstances we can’t change can attest.  He’s going to act out, it’s just a question of _when_.”

“Be on your guard.”  Loki advised, looking towards the door as his guard called for entrance.  “Thor tended to have the _worst_ of all possible timing.  I must go, do be _safe_ for me, child.”

“I’ll try.”  Frey’s grin was lightning quick and flashing white.  “But you know me…no promises.”

“Yes.”  Loki rolled his expressive green eyes.  “I _do_ know you, and my often-foolhardy brother.  That’s what I’m worried about…”  With a wave of his hand, the mirror went dark, Frey laughing a little under his breath at his father’s visible exasperation.

Loki kept his composure so well, his mask was so smooth, that rarely did he show much emotion at all unless it was for the purpose of a bigger game.  Frey never got tired of seeing him lower his mask and show everything his father felt when he was in the comfort and company of his son.  It did his heart good to see that side of him that Loki hid from others.

Frey was tucking the mirror away and rising to his feet with a cat-like stretch when the man walking through the hotel doors caught his eye, Frey reading him as an agent with whatever agency had moved in on Mjolnir in an instant, his guard snapping into place.

If they were here, then they were _looking_ , suspicious of _something_.

And there was nothing more suspicious in the entire state of New Mexico than the six-foot-eight newly-turned-mortal sitting up in Frey’s hotel room.

…

Phil strode into the lobby of the Holiday Inn where two highly suspicious characters – men who rang all the bells on Phil’s weird-shit-o-meter – were supposedly lodged, having arrived the prior night, not long after one of the men’s discharge from the County Hospital.

According to the information he – or his people – had unearthed, Drs. Black and Adamson had scheduled a trip to Puente Antiguo to look into rumors of possible Old Norse runes or sigils, which if they were valid would drastically expand the current knowledge of the Viking exploration of the Americas.

They checked out – perfectly – as old friends and battle-buddies, both with variations of extreme intelligence, the best in their fields, who met while serving the mandatory-service requirement in the Norwegian military.

Black had left after four years, while Adamson had stayed on until most recently.

The story – background and all – was good…it was flawless even.

Too damn good, especially considering the massive freak-out Adamson had had at the hospital leading to his forcible sedation.

Phil smelled a rat.

But whether they were aliens or foreign intelligence or just a couple of schmucks who picked the wrong place and time, he’d get the truth of it and send the report onto Director Fury.

On the bright side…unless he was drastically missing his mark, neither man could _possibly_ be as big of a pain in his ass as Tony-fucking-Stark.

“Good evening, welcome to the Holiday Inn.”  The receptionist, Becca, smiled her company smile at Phil.

“Good evening.”  Phil nodded with a small, carefully correct smile in turn.  “Agent Coulson with the FBI.  I’m looking for two men who are recent guests of yours…”  Reach out he flipped open his tablet and showed her a screen-shot harvested from the hospital’s camera stills and Dr. Black’s picture from the Harvard website side-by-side.  “Drs. Adamson and Black.  Are they in?”

“I can’t confirm whether any guest stays here without a warrant Agent Coulson.”  Becca said regretfully. 

Phil shot her an understanding look, preparing to cajole when she continued.

“However, I don’t _have_ to.”  She pointed towards the opening to the dining room.  “I _will_ say that you are welcome to a complimentary cup of coffee, sir.”

“ _Thank_ you, Becca.”  Phil loved it when patriotic duty – or pure self-perseveration – enticed others into truly helpful behavior.  “Have a nice day.”

Becca nodded politely and went back to her paperwork, keeping one eye on the government man.  Normally she wouldn’t have done that, being a private sort herself.  But she remembered how strange the arrival of the two men had been and then adding the FBI to things…well.  The less said about those kinds of things, the better.

Phil wandered with a crisp but ready stride into the other room, eyes sharp.  There was no telling how the “Doctors” would react to his presence.  Especially with the transcript of the interview Barton had done with the intake staff of the hospital about Dr. Adamson and the other staff who later were forced to subdue him.

The words “extremely strong” and “severe distress and confusion” had been batted around, as well as the second-hand account of the man being hit by a RV but getting back up, then making the young Ms. Lewis nervous enough to Taser him.

None of that filled him with confidence over the behavior to expect from the two former-military men turned scholars.

Though Adamson’s PTSD diagnosis _did_ cast the events of the hospital in a different light, it still did _not_ explain what he was doing naked in a desert.

As Phil entered the adjacent room fully he withheld a smile at the true level of helpfulness from the receptionist as he all-but walked into the more _interesting_ of the two men, Dr. Black.

Adamson was _odd_ , especially framed in the light of his possibly being an alien entity.

But Black…now he was something entirely different.

Showed up in the US after a childhood marked by tragedy and genius, followed by stints in the military of his native Norway then university positions teaching using his government-paid-for education to make a hefty mark as a scholar and genius beyond being a child prodigy.

Then one day decides to up and move to the US, his father’s native country, netting offers from all the best universities to teach, landing at Harvard around a year ago.

And then _somehow_ managed to show up in New Mexico the same night as unexplained alien objects just started _falling from the sky_ , taking custody of a possible alien who had a flawless background that matched up with Black’s.

Something was rotten in the state of Denmark and Phil was going to dig until he knew what it was.

Personally, Phil’s money was on Black being a plant and intelligence operative…though for _who_ was the question.

“Dr. Black, _just_ the man I’m looking for.”

“I’m sorry.”  Frey played bemused beautifully, having seen the emotion acted out around him – usually over his own antics – since he was in the cradle.  “Do I know you…?”

“Agent Coulson, Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division.”  Phil flashed his badge.  “I need to talk to you about your companion and the events of last night, Dr. Black.”

“SHIELD, huh?”  Frey huffed a moment.  He loved being right but this once he wished he was wrong.  They were too used to weird to buy the easy explanation.  He’d figured out that much while monitoring this Earth and learning as much about the logistics and politics, the important players of this universe versus those of the other Earth’s he’s been too, including his own.  “Thor has PTSD, it causes problems sometimes.  I explained all this to the hospital staff…and I know it’s in his file from when he was discharged.”

“Yes, you did and yes, it was.”  Phil smiled his “we’re going to talk about this whether you like it or not, don’t make me get out my Taser” smile.  “But you know how it is, all the t’s crossed.”

“Yeah.”  Frey barked a laugh, jerking his head towards one of the empty tables then grabbed the coffee carafe and a couple mugs before joining the agent who was opening up his tablet and keying up an app, no doubt to record the interview.  “Go ahead and ask your questions, Agent Coulson.”

“I appreciate your cooperation.”  Phil told him drily, bringing up an app that will allow him to take notes that are synced with the recording, stylus at the ready as he started asking the background questions, every one of Black’s answers lining up with his background and that of his… _friend._

“…Now.”  Phil leaned forward a bit, ready to start in on the more pertinent questions.  “Let’s discuss last night…”

Frey _hated_ being on this side of an interrogation.

It wasn’t like it was the _first_ time he’d ever had one of these thinly veiled “discussions” with a government agent of one kind or another, but it never got any easier to rein in his frustration over it.  But it was a necessary part of doing the numerous jobs he’d been set over the years – many on his own accord – and one he did well.  This Coulson though was better than many an interrogator he’d knocked gloves with.

Severus had been one of a kind, especially with his mental abilities, but Coulson was one of the best straight-human investigators Frey’d ever dealt with.

Of course, as Frey’s life of subterfuge had begun before he’d ever been _born_ , it would be appalling if he couldn’t cover his ass with _one_ agent.

“PTSD, paranoia, delusions of grandeur.”  Coulson pursed his lips, sitting back and eyeing Frey warily.  “Your friend sounds like a very sick man.  What’s he doing in New Mexico or even the States?  He should be undergoing treatment.”

At least, he _should_ be if this guy was as sick as his so-called friend and his file made him seem, in Phil’s opinion.

He’d seen a lot of agents be brought down by not dealing with mental issues as they arose, and even more while in the Rangers.

And say what you like about the Scandinavian countries, they tended to kick America’s ass when it came to healthcare.

“Allowing a man with your friend’s training and background out among civilians while he has these issues is irresponsible to say the least.”

“You’re right, it would be.”  Frey agreed easily, netting him a small surprised glance from those all-seeing brown eyes.  “Except that Thor’s undergone treatment, he takes his meds, goes to counselling.  He’s as stable as he’ll ever probably be, hence the timing of his visit.  Unfortunately, no one could’ve expected his reaction to the severe and strange weather and the explosion he says he saw last night that set him off.  He’s a good man, Agent Coulson.”  Frey said with nearly-genuine earnestness, leaving out the caveats he felt should be attached.

Like “he was raised to be a racist against anything not Aesir.”

“And he was a good solider.”  Also true.  “This whole mix-up…it’s really not his fault.”

Annnd lie, lie, massive lie.

Granted, some of the cultural issues that led to him attacking the hospital personnel, compounded by the confusion and shock of his banishment, _those_ weren’t his fault.

But the inciting incident that cost dozens of Jotnar lives, that one was _all_ due to Thor’s fat-headed arrogance and thick, unthinking, skull.

“I’ve heard reports that he had another minor outburst earlier today, at the local diner.”  Phil arched a brow.  “He started shouting about the mythical hammer _Mjolnir_ again, the same as Dr. Foster reported had happened before Ms. Lewis tase’d him.”

“You said it yourself, Agent Coulson.”  Frey shrugged helplessly.  “Thor is _sick_.  And his illness isn’t the kind that’s easily conquered through any method.  I’m afraid because of his name, that his delusion has focused on himself as a god of old, his namesake, and as a result…”  He trailed off leadingly.

“He’s constantly searching for his hammer.”  Phil sighed.

Black was _good_.

If Phil hadn’t been the handler for the Black Widow, he’d probably even go for it.

As it was, it was such a damn _good_ story that covered every variable that his brain was telling him to accept it, file his report, and move on.

But his gut said something else.

And as his instincts have kept him alive and made it possible for him to recruit and handle two of SHIELD’s best operatives, he _always_ listened to them.

Even when they insisted that narcissistic jerks like Stark were ultimately trustworthy if not necessarily _good_ by the general definition of the word.

“That does fill in a lot of the blanks.”  Phil allowed.  “And testimony does corroborate that your friend was perfectly fine until the locals started talking about an unliftable _hammer_.  However, I’ll need to speak to your friend myself, you understand.”

“Of course.”  Frey nodded, expression earnest.  “He’s up in our room, watching some youTube videos and calming down after the stress of these last few days.”

“Well.”  Phil gathered up his things, smiling brightly.  “We should get this out of the way so he can truly put this whole mess behind him.”

…

On Asgard, Loki received a warded message sphere, one from his bera from the color and feel of it.

 _“My child_.”  It spoke directly into Loki’s mind as he took it in hand and activated the magic.  “ _I received a communique from Asgard,_ not _from one of my normal spies but using their protocols.  Whoever it was, their magic felt…cloying and vaguely female.  They offered to sneak a Jotnar force into the palace to kill you as the acting King of Asgard.  Be_ careful _my barn.”_

“Well now…”  Loki mused, a smirk tugging at the side of his mouth.  “Cloying, female, only partially Aesir, with reason to hate the Jotnar and desiring to prevent Thor’s coronation.”

“There are, perhaps.”  Frigga narrowed her eyes from her place seated on the other side of the tea-table.  She didn’t hear the message of the sphere, but understood it to be from one of Loki’s contacts.  King-Regent her son might be, but yet he made what little time he could to join her in her vigil over Odin and lift her spirits in the wake of troubled times.  “A handful of _seidr_ users in all of Asgard who match that description in any small way.  And among them less still that could manage slipping the golems into the weapons Vault.”

“One comes to mind immediately.”  Loki mused.  “But she’s been exiled from Asgard for nearly a millennium.”

“There is more than one way into the Realm Eternal, as you well know my beloved cunning son.”  Frigga rolled her eyes delicately.  “But yes, _she_ is who I thought of as well.”

“Amora is indeed the obvious suspect with this description of the rogue sorcerer.”  Loki rolled the idea around in his mind.  “But the _obvious_ choice – aside from her exile – doesn’t automatically make her the rogue indeed.  This could be a clever ruse to distract us from the true villain of the piece.”  He sighed.  “But ruse or not, it wouldn’t pay to take the chance.  I’ll have Heimdall search for his erstwhile niece and her loyal Executioner.  And in the meantime try and select a new gatekeeper.”  Switching gears, he took a small sip from his cup, eyeing his mother shrewdly.  “Tell me, what do you think of Vidar Vilison…”

…

 _Clang, clang, clang_ went Gungnir on the golden steps of Hildsjkalf as Loki called the meeting of the Thing to order.

There was an itch under his skin, something warning him that things were coming to a head and soon.  His instincts and _seidr_ warning him at nothing less than a shout that if he wanted to accomplish anything before everything fell apart and the Wheel turned, that he needed to do it _now_.  And for the safety of both his family and his son, there was one last piece of business that he had to take care of before whatever was coming occurred.

The Wheel – every universe and each realm of reality had one though it was known as different things in each.

Frey’s origin universe had been going through a Turn when he was born in the middle of it, the Blood War being one of the major events of that Turning along with the wars against Kronus and Gaea.

It was a system of checks-and-balances that ensured neither mortal, immortal, or divine life outgrew the abilities of their universe to support them, an important measure when you look at the numbers of lives populating a human-populated Earth or the vastness of the half-blooded children produced by Olympus every year.

Some universes called them apocalyptic events, others cataclysms, Loki’s people dubbed it the Wheel, and the worst of them Ragnarok, when the Wheel no longer sufficed to keep the Yggdrasil universe in check, wiping the slate clean and starting over again.

One particularly interesting universe called it the Ascension, and ran it like a war with one faction defeating the other for prominence during the next lull between Turnings of the Wheel.

They came at different intervals – Yggdrasil hasn’t had one since the Jotnar-Aesir war, the Asgard-Svartlheim war coming before it during the reign of Bor Burison.

In others they were every fifty years – or fifty thousand – or only had one, a true apocalypse, every cycle of life.

This one, Loki felt, had the potential to be one of the worst Yggdrasil had ever faced, perhaps even to the extent of ushering in Ragnarok if it can’t be kept in check.

And with the way events tended to play out surrounding his son, he had a sinking suspicion over just _who_ were going to be neck-deep in the muck and mud and blood of this Turning.

“Heimdall the Gatekeeper, come forward.”  Loki called out once the gathered population of Asgard had quieted.  Much like the trials the day before, the people had gotten wind of events and gathered whoever could in the gallery to witness events first-hand, many out of curiosity for how Loki, the often-slighted, overlooked, and maligned second son of Odin would rule.  “Vidar Vilison, styled Vidar the Just, come forward.”

Whispers ran rampant with anticipation.

Vidar, son of Vili…to be the new Gatekeeper?  What other reason could there be for Loki-King calling him forth besides the to-be-relieved Heimdall?  Most found themselves appreciating the choice after thinking it over.

Vidar the Just was known to be the second-strongest warrior of Asgard, coming behind only Thor himself.  He was a warrior and a general, but also as one of the oldest nephews of Odin-King had served as a judge at court, a diplomat to Vanaheim, and as one of the most elite Einherjar.  Other than a few highly-decorated warriors such as the exiled Thor and the Warriors Three or Brunnhilde who led the Valkyrie, there are few who were more deserving of the high honor and trust that being made the Gatekeeper of Asgard than Vidar, son of Vili.

“Vidar, son of Vili, known as the Just, do you accept the honor and position of the Gatekeeper of Asgard, wielder of Hofung and possessor of Gjarllerhorn?”

“Yes, Loki-King.”  Vidar swore, stunned at the honor being shown to him by a cousin he’d never truly spent much time with, Loki and Thor, let alone Baldur, being so much younger than himself.  Among his uncle Odin’s children only Bragi was of his generation, and was not considered one of the heirs to the throne due to his being born of one of Odin’s early indiscretions with the half-Jotun sorceress Angrboda.  “I accept this high honor and the trust of the throne of Asgard.”

“Watchful diligence, impartiality without fail, and vigilance without falter: those are the charges of the Gatekeeper of the Nine Realms.”  Loki spoke solemnly as he descended the steps to the kneeling Heimdall and Vidar, accepting the sword and horn from Heimdall with a short bow then turning and offering them in turn to Vidar.  “Do you swear to carry out these duties unto your last breath or your relief by the King of Asgard?”

“I so swear.”  Vidar bowed low then took up Hofung and Gjarllerhorn, feeling a shock of power run through him, a shock that became a tidal wave as Loki placed his hands upon both Heimdall’s and Vidar’s foreheads and finished the ceremony.

“Then by the power of Odin and all the kings of Asgard, back to the beginning, I hereby relieve Heimdall, son of Seven Mothers, of the charge of Gatekeeper and bestow it upon Vidar, son of Vili.  So mote it be.”

Golden light sprang from Gungnir where it rested in its place on Hildsjkalf, slamming into Loki’s back then rushing over Loki’s bridging hands and leaping first into Heimdall then enveloping Vidar.

The watching crowd gasped in awe when at Loki’s motion, Heimdall rose to his feet and accepted the helmet of the Einherjar from Tyr, his eyes once more a warm brown, while Vidar’s shone gleaming gold under the helm of the Gatekeeper.

Loki let out a soft breath.

Come what may, at least there was now a Gatekeeper who didn’t owe his first and last breaths to Odin.

Now…he had an enchantress to smoke out from her hiding place and an executioner to locate before they could cause further damage to the Nine Realms.

…

Frey led the way upstairs to his room, after eyeing the SHIELD agent, deciding to take the path of least resistance and let the agent accompany him.  It just wasn’t worth the hassle of trying to convince the man to stay in the dining area while Frey retrieved Thor.  Agent Coulson had an excellent way of giving a look that was completely blank but utterly resolute at the same time.

It kinda made him want to sit across from the man at a poker table just to see _how_ complete Coulson’s poker face was.

After a perfunctory knock, Frey used the keycard and opened the door, calling out to Thor that he was back with a guest, trying to prepare the former-Aesir.

A warning that was wasted as he looked around the room, a room that was infuriatingly absent one former God of Thunder.

“Fuck,” Frey cursed under his breath as he strode into the room, a look at what was up on the youTube channel having him rushing over to frantically search for the keys to his SUV on his nightstand.

Thor might be an impulsive idiot but he could be a clever bastard when he wanted too.  Clicking through the videos, Frey confirmed that Thor had indeed watched the documentaries Frey had queued up for him…before watching a learning tutorial for beginning drivers.

“Problem, Dr. Black?”  Agent Coulson asked, his pleasant tone grating on Frey’s nerves as he mentally focused and pinged the locator spell he’d placed on his missing exile.

Frey cast a dirty look at the man who was already pulling out his phone to make a call to his people.

“My keys are gone.”  Frey told him, voice and jaw tight.

“License plate number?”

“Massachusetts custom plate: MISCHIEF-M.”  Then Frey snorted.  “Not they you really need to put out a BOLO, I think we _both_ know where my mentally distressed friend is headed, Agent Coulson.”

“Yes,” Phil smirked.  “Yes, we do, don’t we, Dr. Black?”

Frey just snarled under his breath and followed the SHIELD agent who was already calling in orders to his men at the mobile base surrounding the artifact.

“By the way,” Phil commented as they climbed into his SUV not even thinking of letting the other agent – though of who he still wasn’t sure – out of his sight.  “What does the M stand for on your plate?”

“Mischief Managed.”  Frey answered absently.  “It was a phrase my father and his friends used while they were at school.  It stuck with me once I heard it.”


	6. Chapter Five

** The Frost Prince **

_Author’s Note:  Something came up in a review that I feel the need to address, specifically regarding Loki’s sentence for Sif.  Sif wasn't literally being forced to marry, that was more a jab at her ongoing refusal to marry or do anything “womanly” and Loki being a bit petty than an actual order. Both the no warriors weapons and the jab at her having to marry go back to Sif, who used to be friends with Loki, making fun of him over using women's magic and weaponry since she took it as a personal insult to how hard she worked to be a warrior, and him being considered unmarriageable in her mind; and the ongoing bullying Loki suffered at the hands of pretty much all of the Asgardian warriors. Was it Just of him to take it out on her when he had the opportunity? Probably not. But not without grounding in the reality of Loki and his character either_ and _the sentence wasn’t as severe as it could have been since with a charge of treason Loki could have gotten away with literally any sentence he wanted to dish out._

**Chapter Five – Executioners, Enchantresses, and Enmity**

“Any traction on the laptop?”  Phil spoke softly into his headset, keeping one eye on the “Doctor” who’d made himself at home at an empty station in the mobile base.

“Negative.”  Agent Sitwell’s voice came through clearly.  “However it’s firewalled, we can’t hack it.”

“Interesting.”  Phil mused, arching an impressed brow.  “Hawkeye, any eyes on our expected guest?”

“Still nothing.”  Barton reported from his crow’s nest watching the fence line.  “Are we sure this guy is coming here?”

“Positive.”  Coulson stated firmly.  “Whoever this guy is, and whoever his friend here works for, they’re too invested in the artifact.  He’ll show up, just keep your eyes open and sharp.”

“Yes, sir.”  Hawkeye sighed, groaning a bit as the clouds cracked over his head.  “Great.  Now it’s going to rain.”

…

Thor waited patiently for night to fall.

After Frey had left him to watch the recorded stories, Thor’s mind had raced in a thousand different directions.

About Loki.

About Frey.

About his own foolishness and the reality of his situation, a situation that thanks to the recordings Frey had him watch – and he had – he now had a better grasp on just how precarious it potentially was.

This wasn’t the Midgard of old, not anymore.

He couldn’t – as Fandral had said – appear and throw around a little lightning…not that he could anyway at the moment…and be worshipped.

No, Midgard had grown beyond such things.

Thor had watched Frey carefully as he piloted the metal carriage, his _SUV_ , and kept an ear open, listening and learning from everything around him, then watched again as Frey used his _laptop_ to access the recording via the _internet_.

Thus, when Frey had failed to return once the recordings had finished, Thor decided to…explore things a bit.

Touching the runes carefully, Thor had opened another _page_ on the _internet browser_ as Frey had explained the device to him, which brought up a page with the colorful word _Google_ and a box that offered the ability to search.

Likening it to the catalogue that one could use to find information in the palace archives or Asgard’s great Library, Thor studied the runes, carefully inputting the terms that he found most foreign: SUV, then internet, laptop, computer, Google, debit card; each term leading him to more and more information about the era of development he found himself in.

Sometime later and still without sight or sound of Frey, Thor bit at his lip before inputting his next search…a pair terms that Frey had used while berating him over his actions on Jotunheim that Thor had never heard before but had nothing to do – from what he could tell – with the differences in advancement between Midgard and Asgard.

Racism and genocide.

A wounded sound poured from between chapped lips as he stared uncomprehendingly at picture after picture showing the struggles Midgardians had undergone due to differences in such meaningless things as skin color or who they chose to worship…then realized the point that Frey had tried to make but that had failed to puncture Thor’s haze of shock over being cast from Asgard.

Shaking, Thor had felt his stomach churn as pictures of little children emaciated and broken during something called the “Holocaust” or in places named “Ethiopia” and “Sudan” brought forth images of some of the Jotnar he’d fought a mere day and some hours before: rib sunken and stomachs hollow or bloated from starvation.

But where the people crushed under this vile man Adolf had been saved in time, and famine eventually ends, the Jotnar would never be able to recover so long as Asgard held the Heart of Winter captive.

Forcibly shoving such thoughts away, that perhaps his blatant murder of dozens of Jotnar had saved many others with the high weregild of the Casket being paid, not willing to comfort himself of the depths of evilness that his father had visited on another race, Thor focused on what he _could_ do to redeem himself in some small way.

Mjolnir waited.

There was nothing Thor could do to make amends while he was banished and his brother was tasked with cleaning up his mess.

He would have to reclaim his hammer and return to Asgard if he hoped to redeem himself for over a thousand years’ worth of unthinking prejudice.

Still, in the back of his mind, Thor couldn’t help but think that the All-Father was wise, and had reasons for all he did.

Surely, there was some _purpose_ behind the taking of the Casket?

For truth, the All-Father couldn’t have _known_ what he was sentencing all of Jotunheim too?

It _had_ to be a mistake, his father must have simply been trying to keep Laufey from annexing Midgard, not been attempting to force the Jotnar into starving submission.

Thor simply could not comprehend that the kind, wise leader of the Aesir would have _knowingly_ tried to wipe out an entire race.

Pushing it all away, Thor brought the “YouTube” back up, this time searching for practical knowledge: how to drive and how best to conceal a vehicle.

Knowledge – of many kinds – churning through him, Thor had taken up the “keys” Frey had left in the room, then snuck out the back entrance of the hotel, driving out into the desert – after a fitful start – near where he’d learned the hammer was thanks to videos posted by the men who’s tried and failed to lift Mjolnir before the government men had arrived.  Concealing the black SUV inside a small stand of shrubs and trees, wincing a bit as the shrubbery marred Frey’s conveyance’s glossy paint, Thor had sat and waited impatiently for the sun to go down.  Darkness covering the desert, Thor had left the keys on the seat of the SUV for someone to find, knowing that it would get back to Frey one way or another, and set off into the desert towards the white glow in the distance.

The sky cracked over his head, bringing a grim smile to his face, and the rain began pouring down on his head, providing just the cover he’d need if the men between himself and his hammer were as well-trained as Frey had implied.

…

“Report.”

“It is as you suspected, my king.”  Brunnhilde reported, bowing crisply with a fist over her heart.  “Lady Lorelei’s estate, left vacant save for her servants in the wake of her and her sister’s exile, has had increased activity in the last several months.”

“How has such a thing gone unremarked?”  Loki asked, leaning forward and bracing his hands on the rim of the scrying pool Brunnhilde had used to search for Amora.  They still hadn’t pinpointed her location, but Brunnhilde, as the leader of the Valkyrie, and one of the more powerful _seidr_ users in Asgard after those in the royal family and the healers, had followed his suggestion of looking into the sisters’ estates and that of their family for abnormal activity.

Brunnhilde shrugged.  “Lady Lorelei’s estate is far into the mountains, and the village is solely supported by it.  The villagers might be loyal to Asgard but few are those in my experience that would wish to risk their livelihood when there is no certain proof of wrongdoing going on.”

“True enough.”  Loki sighed.  “Lies of omission are the tools of otherwise _honest_ citizens to protect their own self-interest.  Midgardians have a rather appropriate phrase for it: plausible deniability.”

“You can’t be held guilty over information you don’t possess, yes.”  Brunnhilde nodded knowingly.  “I have seen the practice many times.”

“Unfortunately for these villagers.”  Loki scowled.  “If their silence sheltered Amora – and she turns out to be the rogue we’re searching for – mere omission won’t protect them from the All-Father’s punishments once he wakes with the severity of the rogue’s actions – and those they in turn caused.”

“Yes, my king.”  Brunnhilde sighed, well aware of the All-Father’s infamous temper and the dim view he took of anything approaching treachery.  “I’m afraid you’re right.”

…

A shrill alarm sounded and lights began to flash inside the mobile base that looked from above like a hamster cage made of glowing white tubing and thin plastic walls set inside a fresh crater.

“He’s here.”  Frey spoke suddenly, appearing directly behind Coulson on silent feet and giving the consummate agent a start.

“When did you…?”  Shaking it off, Phil spoke into his walkie-talkie.  “Anyone have eyes on the intruder?”  He demanded as he strode out of one portion of the base, swiftly crossing a section of open air and getting rain poured onto him in the process, and striding into the section surrounding the hammer.

“Negat…”  The report was cut-off mid-word with a groan.

“Found him.”  Hawkeye reported from up high.  “He’s tearing through the guards like tissue paper.  Want me to slow him down or are you just going to keep throwing bodies at him?”

“I’ll get back to you.”  Phil snarked back, turning towards a scientist who was waving for his attention, Frey at his heels brushing off any agent unwise enough to try and stop him from following their boss.

“The electro-magnetic field is showing a massive spike.”  The scientist reported.  “It’s frying our equipment, we can barely gauge it, the spike is nearly off the charts.”

“Why?”

“We don’t know.”  Phil was told as he moved to the window overlooking the hammer.  “It’s given off small pulses before but nothing to this extent.  It’s grown steadily for the last hour before spiking minutes ago.”

…

Sounds of hand-to-hand combat, groans, slams, flesh hitting flesh, sounded just under the storm and lightning.

Thor tore through the base, none of those attempting to stop him doing anything more than making him pause but a moment.

Coming around a corner, Thor paused, at last setting eyes on the stark beauty of Mjolnir, still embedded in the New Mexico bedrock.  Smiling brightly, blood up from the fight, he ran for her, only to hit his back hard when an arm slammed into his upper chest.  Crouching, feeling the call to battle riding him hard, he eyed the large man who’d stopped him however temporarily.

“You’re big.”  He commented with a cocky smirk as he climbed to his feet.  “Fought bigger.”

…

Hawkeye grinned down the shaft of his arrow as he watched the target launch through the thin walls of the base, both target and agent slamming into the muddy ground.

The target was up first, leaping into the air and hitting the bigger agent with both feet in a flying lunge, the agent slamming even harder into the ground and the target popping right back up onto his feet.

“You’d better call it Coulson.”  He said into his headset.  “I’m starting to root for this guy.”

…

“Who _is_ he?”  Phil snapped, whirling on the amused form of “Doctor” Black.  “NSA, Blackwater, Marines, KGB?”

There was _no way_ this guy was just a Navy-man with PTSD.

Not with the way he’s torn through some of SHIELD’s best like a knife through a rice-paper screen.

“Not hardly.”  Frey drawled, leaning insolently against the railing, his laptop tucked back away in his pack and slung over his shoulder.  “I’ve told you: he’s a career soldier who needed a…time-out as it were.”

“Agent Coulson!”  One of the scientists shouted.  “The hammer is spiking again!  It’s too much!  The equipment is going to crash!”

“Lock it down!”  Coulson ordered, grabbing his sidearm and running for the stairs leading down to the hammer as the massive form of the mud-streaked blond tore through a wall and strode for the hammer.  “You men, with me!”

“I wouldn’t do that…”  Frey all-but-sang into the walkie-talkie he’d helped himself to.  “SHIELD does _not_ want the diplomatic mess that would arise if he’s permanently injured or killed.”

Coulson narrowed his eyes as he heard that come through before relenting.  “Taser’s.”  He snapped, slamming his sidearm back into its holster.  “Highest stun setting.”

…

In the end, the Tasers weren’t required.

Thor surrendered in the wake of being unable to lift the Mjolnir fully, though it did give off another spike that completely fried the components monitoring it when he managed to lift it several inches off the ground before it slammed back to earth.

For a brief moment, Thor felt the connection he’d shared for over a thousand years snap back into place before it broke once more, the sensation of being separated from Mjolnir sending him crashing onto his knees, staring up brokenly at the figure of a Taser-wielding Coulson before he looked beyond him to the implacable face of Frey watching from up above.

…

“For the last time.”  Coulson faced off against Frey, his agents watching the confrontation with varying degrees of entertainment and interest.  “Who the _fuck_ is Thor Adamson, if that’s even his name?”

Frey simply arched his brow with an enigmatic smirk crossing his face as he rocked back on his heels, arms folded across his chest.

“As far as SHIELD is concerned he’s a military hero from Norway with a severe mental condition.”  Frey said mildly.  “And if you intend to hold him _illegally_ , your Director Fury will find himself quickly dealing with a shitstorm the likes of which he’s never weathered before.”

“He attacked my men, tore through them like tinfoil.”  Coulson hissed, eyed narrow.  “Highly trained operatives hand-picked for our agency.  And your _friend_.”  Coulson jabbed a finger towards the interrogation room where Thor was sitting slumped at a table, hands cuffed behind his back.  “Made them look like amateurs.”

“It was kinda entertaining actually.”  Barton noted from his place leaning against a wall, watching the confrontation while simultaneously keeping an eye on the camera feed of the interrogation room.  He shut his mouth with a click of his teeth after fielding a pissed glance from his already-irate handler.

“Do you _really_ think you can hold him?”  Frey arched a brow.  “That I’ll _let_ you?”

Because make no mistake, everyone was aware that the only reason Thor was in an interrogation room at all was because Frey had allowed it.  They still weren’t sure of who he worked for or who his friend was, but neither were they sure that SHIELD was ready to go up against who they were assuming was the “handler” after watching the “operative” tear through some of the best trained combatants SHIELD had to offer outside of the Black Widow and Hawkeye.  Whoever held their leashes was sure to be an agency on-par with SHIELD and _that_ was never a good sign as there was only a handful of agencies of their caliber in the world, and not all of them were on the side of the angels.

Though that Thor hadn’t killed a single man while tearing through their base was a good sign as to their intentions at least.

“No.”  Coulson bit out.  “I don’t have any illusions on that regard.  However, you also have to understand my position.  He’s a dangerous man.  One that you’ve stated over and over again has a dangerous disease when it’s triggered.  Do _you_ think we can simply let that stand with him coming in here and attacking my men?”

“No.”  Frey allowed.  “But keeping him in a cage isn’t going to do you or him any good either.  He got away from me, I admit it.  But it won’t happen again.  You have my word.”

Several moments ticked by each man taking the measure of the other.

Finally, Coulson conceded with a nod, plans and contingencies running through his head.

Nick wouldn’t be happy but this was his play and his call to make.

Lifting his walkie-talkie, Coulson gave the order.

“Bring him out, Dr. Adamson is free to go so long as he stays in Dr. Black’s custody.”  Coulson stared at Frey, studying him wryly.  “Stick around, Dr. Black.  I’m sure we’ll have more questions for you.”

“Of course, Agent Coulson.”  Frey smiled charmingly, eyes glinting.  “I can hardly wait.”

…

“Frey…”

“Shh, Thor.”  Frey hushed the former-god as he was led out to him at the gate of the base, an agent standing silently by the door of the SHIELD SUV that was charged with taking them to wherever Thor had left his vehicle.  “Not one word until we’re alone.”

…

“Are you sure this is a good idea, Phil?”  Clint Barton, aka Hawkeye, asked as they watched the two climb into the back of Sitwell’s assigned rig.  “Cutting them loose?”

“Not at all.”  Coulson admitted freely to one of his favorite operatives.  “But Adamson didn’t say a word once the fight was over and Black wasn’t giving us anything.  We _need_ to know who these men are.”

“Why?”  Clint rolled his eyes.  “They’re another couple of government black-ops guys, just have Nick pull some strings and we’ll know who for.”

“I’m not so certain of that.”  Phil mused.  “There’s only one thing about them I _am_ certain of with these two.”

“What’s that?”

“Of the two of them, it’s not Thor we should be worried about…”

“Black?”  Barton arched a brow, studying his handler’s face carefully.  “Really?  ‘Cause I saw the file on him, he checks out.  There’s even videos of some of his lectures online.  He’s clean.”

“That man is many things, Agent Barton.”  Coulson said seriously.  “But I wouldn’t put _clean_ anywhere on that list.  I want eyes on both of them 24/7.  Let’s see what shakes out when they think they’re in the clear.”

…

“Frey…”  Thor tried again when they were in Frey’s vehicle, the other man holding up a hand and closing his eyes for a moment before the interior of the car was enveloped in a green glow that flickered in a few places before dissipating.

“Listening devices.”  Frey smirked.  “Or trackers or both.  They’d already found the car before we arrived.”  He rolled his shoulders then started the engine, tooling them away from the watching SHIELD vehicle.  “It’s safe to speak now.”

…

“We’ve gone dark.”  An agent told Coulson apprehensively.  “All the devices we planted have been knocked off-line.”

“Sitwell?”  Coulson spoke into his cellphone a moment later.  “Report.  We’ve gone dark.”

“There was a green-colored glow from the interior of the vehicle.”  Jackson reported concisely.  “Immediately afterwards all our trackers went dead.  We’re following at a circumspect distance but they know we’re following due to headlights.”

“Come back to base.”  Coulson ordered.  “We’re done for the night.  We’ll keep to the agents watching the hotel and in the room next to our mystery men.  Let them get a bit comfortable without an obvious SHIELD presence.”

“Yes, sir.”

…

“I could not lift her.”  Thor was saying inside the Mazda SUV with custom plates.  “Not more than a few inches.  Mjolnir no longer comes into my hand.  I saw the runes of father’s enchantment.  I am no longer worthy of her any more than I am of everything else he stripped from me.”

“You _did_ lift her.”  Frey pointed out.  “Which is more than you probably could have done a day ago if Mjolnir landed at your side.  I am admittedly not the biggest _fan_ of the All-Father but even I don’t believe he would’ve stuck you here and left you to die.  You’re here for a reason and whatever it is you’ve already completed some of it or else Mjolnir wouldn’t have responded to you at all.”  Frey eyed Thor’s dejected figure from the corner of his eye.  “Which _probably_ has something to do with my computer’s rather interesting browsing history.”

“Aye.”  Thor sighed.  “I realize now the depths of my wrongs against the Jotnar.  I find myself deeply conflicted.”

“Good.”  Frey told him simply.  “You should be.  Taking a life should never be an easy choice.  It’s about time you learned that particular lesson.  Odin has done you and the rest of the Aesir no favors by glorifying war and battle.  A good soldier and warrior you might be but you’ll never be a good or _worthy_ king if you don’t learn the value of each and every life that could be saved or forsaken with each choice you make upon Hildsjkalf.”

…

Frey stopped at the local grocer, picking up massive sandwiches and a case of beer, knowing that Thor could use a drink after the last couple of days.  Thor accompanied him patiently, studying everything with a strategist’s eye as Frey had suggested.  Frey told him that if he wanted to be a good king, or even just a mediocre one, he would need to understand the people he sought to rule the way he understood the ebb and flow of battle.

Thor saw the teacher in Frey coming through, having watched for years as the other man tutored the youth around him, and now finding himself in the position of having the man teaching _him_.

“You have questions.”  Frey noted idly, as they tucked into their sandwiches.  He’d told Thor before they left the SUV that while he’d be able to disable any devices in their room, there was no way to tell if someone was listening from the hall or one of the adjacent rooms, even the one directly beneath them.  He could ward them for silence but that would draw even _more_ unwanted attention.  Better to be circumspect with their words than further endanger themselves.  “Ask.”

“The questions I have I cannot afford the answers to.”  Thor told him several minutes and a beer later.

Frey arched a brow curiously.

Thor explained a bit further.

“You know who my brother is.”  He said simply.  “One thing I have learned from knowing him is the value of information…and the cost at times of possessing it.  I would rather _not_ ask the questions that plague me and come into possession of information that might prove costly…either to myself or a beloved member of my family.”

Frey nodded understandingly at that.

Perhaps Thor wasn’t as hopelessly naïve as he sometimes came across after all.

They spent the remainder of the night with Frey teaching Thor about Earth via more documentaries before switching to popular culture, introducing him to the wonders of television where much to Thor’s enjoyment they found an animated movie marathon being shown on one of the few channels available.

It was a good match, since they didn’t require Thor to have an in-depth understanding of the modern era for the most part, though predictably he enjoyed _How To Train Your Dragon_ a great deal more than he did _Tangled…_ though apparently the hero of the first reminded Thor enough of Loki to have the big man emotional as he watched him use his cunning and intelligence to save the day.

And so another day of Thor’s banishment passed.

…

“Who will lead the raid on the estate?”  General Tyr questioned Loki as they and the captains of the Einherjar stood over the plans of Lorelei’s estate that Loki had procured from the archives.

Loki looked up, eyes tracing over the group which included the newly repurposed Heimdall.

“I will.”  He said at last.  “General Tyr, my mother will hold the throne in my absence.  I do not anticipate anything going wrong, nonetheless, all precautions should be taken to safeguard the Queen and the All-Father while I and the Einherjar locate our elusive rogue.”

“Yes, Loki-King.”  Tyr gave a short nod as he and the rest of the elite warriors were dismissed.

…

“They don’t _sound_ like battle-buddies from the way back.”  Was all Clint had to say as they reviewed the tapes from the night before.  “But they’re not strangers either.  They at least know _of_ each other even if they don’t _know_ each other.”

Phil stretched as he climbed out of the cot.  It really wasn’t wide enough for two to sleep comfortably but as always when out in the field, they’d made it work.  It helped that half the time one or the other of them was on watch or needed in the command center.

“That was my assessment as well.”  Coulson nodded, rubbing at the kink in the back of his neck with a sigh.  “They headed out to Isabel’s Diner a half-hour ago.  Let’s go crash their party, see if we can get anything more out of them.”

…

“They’re coming.”  Amora the Enchantress smiled gleefully at her lover.  “Exactly as our informant told us.  Come, Skurge.  It would be a _shame_ if the All-Father was left _alone_ and bereft in his time of need.”

…

Frigga sat with Gungnir resting lightly across her lap, keeping watch over her sons and her husband from the seat of Hildsjkalf.

Her gaze turned as another entered the throne room, her words as calm and firm as ever as her Sight cut through the enchantment cloaking them.

“Hello, Lorelei, Skurge.”  She said, disturbing them with her utter lack of surprise.  “I’ve been expecting you.  Tell me…where might your mistress be?”

“Amora is my _sister_ ,” Lorelei snarled, pretty face twisting into something ugly from the rage marring her expression.  “Not my _mistress_.  I take no commands from _her_.”

“And yet.”  Frigga countered.  “Here you are at her behest and with her Executioner lapdog in tow.  What is it you think you shall gain from this course, my dear?  This is no petty case of misusing your power.  This is treason.”

“It won’t be once there’s another on the throne.”  Lorelei shouted brashly.  “Someone _worthy_ of wielding Gungnir and ruling the Nine Realms.  Not that old _grasping_ lecher or his one of his half-breed spawn.”  Lorelei sneered.  “Tell _me_ , All-Mother.  How much did your heart break when Odin placed child after child into your arms and commanded you to raise them as your own?”

“So you know then.”  Frigga hummed under her breath.  “Now _that_ is indeed interesting.  Very few have that information.  Indeed…I can count the number on one hand other than myself and my husband.  How very curious.”

“Enough of this.”  Lorelei rolled her eyes in exasperation.  “Skurge.  Amora desires a spear.  Get it for her, won’t you?”

…

Elsewhere in the place, the Enchantress herself stepped out of the shadows and into the private chambers of Odin, staring in awe for a brief moment at the pure golden power surrounding him in his Sleep.

Slipping a dagger – one acquired through no little trouble and emblazoned with a certain crest – from her sleeve, Amora approached the helpless All-Father and raised the dagger, ready to strike the final blow.

Her hand slashed down, only to be blocked with a _clang_ as another dagger, the mate to the one in her hand, shot out of the shadows and knocked it from her hands.

“Tsk, tsk darling.”  A familiar drawling voice spoke mockingly as Loki stepped forward, peeling the illusion away with a flick of his wrist as he drew another dagger.  “Now _that_ simply won’t do.”

“Loki.”  Amora hissed, eyes narrowed.  “How are you here?”  She demanded.  “I saw you with the men at Lorelei’s estate with my own eyes.”

Loki rolled his eyes with a sigh.

“I will never cease being surprised over how often the Aesir fall for the same trick over and over, even an enchantress like you who should _know better_.”  A snap of his fingers had his illusion clones springing up and surrounding her, speaking in stereo.  “No wonder you were so infatuated with Thor…neither of you can see beyond the end of your nose.”

Amora screeched in fury, dispersing the illusions with a slash of her hand and a wave of her _seidr_.

“ _You_.  All I wanted was for Thor’s coronation to be postponed until I could win him.”  She hissed, bristling like a cat with their hackles up.  “If he was crowned, even as Regent, he’d be forced to take a Queen, like that bitch Sif.  All you had to do was _your job_ and keep him from doing anything _stupid_.  Now…”

“He’s banished and _someone_ found you out…someone other than me that is.”  Loki finished, as they began to circle each other.  “I don’t suppose you’ll offer up your current master in exchange for leniency?  I rather doubt you decided upon regicide all on your little lonesome.”

“Leniency?”  She snorted delicately as she eyed him with disdain.  “From a Jotun _beast_?  I’ll take my chances with my blackmailer.”

“Hmm.”  Loki hummed.  “This tale grows more interesting by the moment.  Too bad I don’t have time to dally with you further my dear.  I do believe my mother is about to kill your Executioner.  And I would so hate to deprive myself of that particular pleasure.”

She growled, blue eyes flashing then disappeared, leaving Loki to cast a ward over Odin to keep another from invading the room, before he followed the trail of her _seidr_ , right into the throne room where as he’d said, Frigga had been within moments of killing the Executioner with her own _seidr,_ Lorelei already knocked out and slumped against the wall, when Amora arrived and hit the All-Mother from behind.

Grasping Gungnir, Amora spat at Loki, grabbing hold of Skurge and disappearing once more as he rushed to assist his mother, calling out for the Einherjar.

…

“Here.”  Amora spat, shoving Gungnir at the waiting form in the Bifrost observatory.  “I brought it as you _commanded_.  But it wasn’t easy.  The All-Father yet lives, Loki was waiting for me, not leading the assault on the estate as you said.  Now what, Lord Tyr?”

The General of the Asgardian forces and father of the now-mortal Sif, second _only_ to Thor in the ranks of the Aesir armies, gave a grim smile, his eyes glowing an eerie blue.

“Now we act.”  He said simply, setting Gungnir aside for the moment and taking up Hofung from the sheath of the wounded and gasping Vidar.  “To net a large reward.  But first…”  He sneered as he set the observatory to its path.  “ _Thor_ yet lives and has gained an ally.  You two will go and _finish_ him.  Destroy him and this _Frey_.  Or there will be no place in the Nine Realms and beyond for you to crawl away and hide, Enchantress.”

Lips pressed together bad-temperedly the blonde sorceress nodded once, moving to stand in place beside her beloved executioner as Tyr activated the Bifrost, sending them hurtling through time and space to the little rat-hole that Thor had landed in upon his banishment.

…

In Puente Antiquo, Frey and Thor were enjoying a large breakfast and evading probes by the trio of scientists who pounced on them as soon as they arrived at Isabel’s Diner.

The two men who were “other” traded laughing glances as they led the scientists in circles, Thor bowing to Frey’s lead and not giving them the information they were after.  It had been a matter of some concern to Frey, what all Thor had let slip previously.  Coulson had been too informed about Thor’s possible origins for either man’s comfort, information that the agent could’ve only gotten from the scientists who originally found Thor or from examining their data from the Bifrost opening.

Neither was particularly comforting, as Frey’s alarm grew with each question and statement shot at them by Dr. Foster about the Einstein-Rosen Bridge.

Earth wasn’t ready.

In no way, shape, or form were they ready for the consequences of that level of advancement.

They were already balanced on a razor’s edge over the Tesseract being active during the late thirties and early forties.

Another such event and they would have clearly signaled that they were ready for a higher form of war, opening themselves, however unknowingly, up to invasion and conquest from the major players in the Cosmos, and in such an event, those of Yggdrasil will defend the territory of Earth…but not necessarily its people, to prevent beings such as Thanos or the Skrull or Kree from gaining access to the weapons of the Realm Eternal.

Frey looked away from a hunted-looking Thor at the tinkle of the bells hanging over the door, calling out happy for the distraction that was sure to quiet the scientists from what Ms. Lewis had let slip about SHIELD confiscating their research.

“Agents Coulson and Barton.”  Frey called.  “Fancy seeing you here.”

In unison the agents and the scientists scowled at him, gaining a chuckle from Thor as Frey gave a smirk he’d seen a thousand times over the years on his brother’s own face.

“Doctors Black, Adamson, Foster, and Selvig.  Ms. Lewis.”  Coulson nodded genially.  “This is quite the meeting of the minds.”

“Well, you know.”  Darcy shot after taking a sip of her coffee.  “Without my iPod there’s not much else to do but chat with the locals.”

“Darcy.”  Jane hissed, eyes narrowed.

“What?”

“I was hoping to speak to Drs. Black and Adamson again.”  Coulson continued.  “As well as yourselves Drs. Foster and Selvig.  I was wondering if you Drs. Foster and Selvig, have reconsidered the offer to come and work for SHIELD?”

Jane opened her mouth to reply when she looked over at Frey and Thor and almost swallowed her tongue at the furious looks on their faces as they stared out the window and down the street.

“Is that…?”  Frey hissed at Thor, head whipping around.

“Skurge.”  Thor nodded, expression grim as the two men rose to their feet, tossing their napkins on the table and striding towards the door.  “Where he goes, Amora is sure to not be far behind.”

“Skurge.”  Selvig said incredulously.  “As in Skurge the Executioner?”

“The same.”  Thor tossed back then paused mid-step, staring lost over at Frey.  “Friend Frey,” he said lowly but not lowly enough to escape the hearing of Coulson and Barton.  “I’m yet mortal.  I won’t be any use against him.”

Frey nodded grimly.  “No, you probably won’t.  But if I remember my stories right, he’s not the sort to care about collateral damage and his…handler has a rather large crush on you.  Clear the streets, Thor and keep Amora busy.  I’ll deal with Skurge.”

Thor nodded, the two of them running from the diner, the agents and scientists frozen for a moment before scrambling to follow.

“This isn’t your fight.”  Thor shouted back at their followers.

“The fuck it’s not.”  Hawkeye shot back as he grabbed his bow and quiver from his SUV, then climbed nimbly up onto the roof of the diner to take up position to lay down cover for Frey, blinking when before his eyes while Coulson, Thor, and the others got people off the street, he caught sight of the massive bald man with ruddy skin and an axe as long as Thor was tall and broader than his shoulders.

Coulson shook his head as Frey ran, weaponless and dressed in jeans, only to change from one moment to the next into some kind of strange leather armor complete with a jacket that hit his knees in the back and a sheath hanging from his shoulders across his back with a sword hilt showing at the top, a spear equal in size to the “Executioner’s” axe in length appearing in his hands.

“Little man.”  Skurge sneered at Frey.  “ _You_ are who Silver-tongue entrusted his beloved brother too?  Hah!  I could break you in twain with one swing.”

“Try it.”  Frey shot back coolly.  “I’ll enjoy making you eat those words.”

“As you wish, _little man_.”

Bellowing, Skurge swung, aiming to cleave Frey’s head from his shoulders in a single blow, only for his blow to be rebuffed with a quick spin and viper-quick arc of the spear in Frey’s hands, backed by Frey’s hidden immortal strength.  Frey followed through with the blow, swiping at one massive bicep with the tip of the spear as he leapt away, aiming to force Skurge into dropping his massive weapon.

Thor glanced over worriedly as he heard the clang of the metal weapons’ hafts meeting with immortal strength, arching a brow as Frey pushed back ounce-for-ounce of force against one of the strongest opponents Thor has ever faced in the sparring ring or on a battlefield.

“I believe I’ve been lied to.”  Coulson murmured as he eyed the battle between the two massive men with archaic weapons being carried out on the main street of a modern town.  “Who is the axe-wielder, Thor?”

“A distraction.”  Came the sultry answer, though notably _not_ from Thor who spun on a dime to face the speaker who garnered an appreciative glance from Erik at her skin-tight silk dress that was cut low over her impressive bust and with a slit on one side to her hip in vibrant red, a tumble of blonde curls frothing over her shoulders and showcasing a flawless face with big green eyes, pouty red lips, and sharp cheekbones.

“Amora.”  Thor said, distaste ripe in both his face and expression.  “You were exiled to Alfheim centuries ago.”

Darcy met Jane’s eyes, mouthing _centuries_ , as he continued.

“What business have you and your pet here?”

“Oh come now.”  Amora pouted up at him, no sign of her current straits showing.  “You were such _good friends_ once.”

“Once.”  Thor nodded, backing up slowly as he advanced, telling the others lowly in an aside: “ _Don’t touch her, whatever you do._ ”  “We were friends indeed.  Until you twisted his,” he jabbed one big finger towards the towering form of Skurge. “Heart and stole his mind.  Now he is nothing but an empty shill for you to command and who begs for your scraps of affection.”

Fury lit those pale green eyes, a sneer marring her lovely face.

Phil spoke softly into his earpiece to Hawkeye on the roof, with Amora distracted by Thor’s bait.

“Do you have a shot?”  He asked.

“Not of Mr. Axe-Happy.”  Clint responded.  “But I’m clear for short-blonde-and-deadly, sure.”

“Take the shot.  Aim to wound then a tranq.”

“Yes, sir.”

In a matter of seconds, both arrows struck true, one burying itself in Amora’s revealed shoulder, Clint going for her right arm and forcing it to drop it moments before she would have touched Thor, following up with a large enough dose of sedative to take down an elephant to her thigh before refocusing on the flurry of blows being rained down between the bald-headed and ebony-haired combatants, just waiting for an opening.

A roar came from Skurge, accompanied by a wild swing of his axe that succeeded in knocking Frey down onto his back and the breath from his lungs as the half-giant’s strength was buoyed by his fury at seeing his lady-love collapsed and bleeding.

“Death!”  Skurge roared.  “Death to you _all_!  I will wipe this ant hill clean with blood and _fire!_ ”

Turning back to his main hindrance, Skurge growled lowly as Frey rolled his shoulders, back on his feet, and stepping over his broken spear took out _Magefire_ , smiling slowly as his power coursed through it and wreathing the blade in eerie flames in the green, black, and silver of his magic.

“Really?”  Frey said with an unimpressed arch of a brow.  “Well.  I’m afraid I’m simply not okay with that plan.  _But_ if you’re in the market for blood and fire…well.”  His grin was bloodthirsty and vicious.  “I’m _certain_ I can help you with that.  Let me show you.”

With that, Frey spun his sword and leapt forward, opening wide and cauterizing all at once a swathe of skin the width of a man’s hand down Skurge’s shoulder and chest.  It was a shallow cut, not life-threatening, but gruesome for those watching to view.  Especially as it was done with a smile on his face and a light in his eyes that would give any opponent with sense pause.

Unfortunately, no one ever accused Skurge of having sense, as he simply advanced, paying the damaging wound no mind as he forced Frey once more into retreat through sheer strength.

A blast of enchanted flame hit Frey on the upper thigh, catching his attention for a moment as he turned instinctively to face the wielder, foolishly leaving his flank open for Skurge to take advantage of, which he did as Frey shot back a spell at the awakened-Amora whose mixed-Aesir-Elven metabolism had quickly burned through the sedative Hawkeye had felled her with.

“Frey, no!”  Thor shouted, leaping without thought to block what would have been at the least a crippling blow had it hit, taking the brunt of the sharp edge of Skurge’s axe straight to his now-mortal chest.

“ _Thor!_ ”  Frey cried out, the battle pausing for an endless moment as the blond, muscled form flew through the air to land a dozen feet away, Frey running to his side.  “Thor, you _idiot!_ ”  Lashing out with a spell, he knocked Skurge to his knees and froze him, _done_ with playing by the unspoken rules of Asgard about magic in combat.

It wouldn’t last long, Skurge was known to have been gifted with a magical-resistant amulet by Amora that worked for everyone _but_ her.

It wouldn’t do for her pet to slip her leash after all.

“Thor.”  Frey whispered, coming down onto his knees at his side.  “Why would you do that?”  He asked brokenly.  “You, you _know_ who I am.  I could’ve taken a dozen blows like that and kept swinging.”

“Forgot.”  Thor coughed, blood coming up and reddening his lips.  “Loki’s.  Safe.”

“Don’t.”  Frey closed his eyes, shaking his head.  “Don’t you dare.  I can take care of myself, you idiotic Asgardian.”

“Safe.”  Thor said brokenly as he gasped out a breath, the air rattling in his broken chest.  “Loki’s.  Safe.”

Lips trembling and eyes growing damp, Frey nodded, watching as Thor smiled and closed his eyes.

…

 


	7. Six - Betrayal

** The Frost Prince **

_The response to the last chapter was so amazing that I’m posting the next several days early instead of leaving everyone in suspense.  That said, this is the last full chapter for The Frost Prince with just an epilogue to follow and then a pair of small fics that I’ll load into the “How to Train Your Godling” catch-all before starting with the events of the Avengers in Truth Will Rise._

**Chapter Six – Betrayal**

Tucked away on Asgard, hidden deep within the depths of the palace, was a chamber guarded by a pair of the finest of Einherjar.

Inside the chamber laid Odin, son of Bor, known as the All-Father, deep within the Odin-Sleep.

Even still, he heard a cry.

 _“Thor!_ ”

And he felt it as his thoughtless, occasionally cruel, and sometimes stupid, second-eldest son sacrificed his life in taking a killing blow for a man he’d met mere days before.

A tear fell from his eye.

And a hammer buried in the New Mexico bedrock, was released from its prison and flew up high into the air.

…

“Thor.”  Frey whispered, shaking as he knelt.

Closing his eyes, he set his jaw and rose to his feet, hands closing with an iron grip on his sword hilt as the flames burned hotter than ever before with his fury and grief.

Burning emerald eyes snapped open as Skurge broke free from his spell, the two clashing together in a flurry of blows too fast for the human eyes watching their nearly Titanic duel to track as the wind kicked up and thunder crashed over their heads, lightning snapping and flashing in their eyes.

“You fight well, little man.”  Skurge gave a blood-filled grin down at this angrily panting man.  “I’ve fought better.”

“And I am Frey, Slayer of Titans.”  Frey spat back as Skurge’s eyes widened visibly at that claim.  From behind the half-giant Frey caught sight of the improbable sight of Mjolnir flying through the air and a fist flashing up from the ground and taking it from the air.  “And you’ve just made your last mistake.”

“What might that be?”

Frey chuckled mirthlessly.

“You taught Thor his final lesson.”  With that, Frey dropped to the ground and slammed the flat of his blade into Skurge’s knees, forcing them to buckle as the newly-awakened and redeemed Thor flew down in full strength and wearing the armor of a Prince of Asgard crashed down from his flight, hammer striking down on Skurge’s shoulder as Frey came back onto his feet and with a double-handed strike of his own sent the Executioner’s axe flying from his hands.

It flew wide, burying itself in the hood of Coulson’s SUV, making the Agent sigh and think regretfully of requisition forms in triplicate.

“Thor!”  Skurge gasped out, falling to the ground with a broken shoulder on his knees, bracing himself on his good arm.  “You were dead!”

“Yes, I was.”  Thor admitted seriously.  “But in so doing for the life of a friend, I have been proven worthy of my power and station.”

A swift kick from one of Frey’s booted feet knocked Skurge fully over and onto his back, blessing him with unconsciousness that saved him from taking a further beating which would have come from the two of them when he proved himself ever a fool and tried to fight on despite his crippling wounds.

“I didn’t think you’d be one for mercy.  Given your past.”  Thor commented as Frey flicked a spell at Skurge, binding him hand and foot then doing the same to Amora before binding the two together.

Frey snorted.  “It’s not mercy.”  He looked up from checking the bonds with a vicious grin.  “They tried to kill _us_.  Loki is going to make them _wish_ we’d killed them here and now.”

Thor tilted his head with a thoughtful look as he studied the man he suspected of being Loki’s own son.  Never before had the resemblance been so clear as when Frey was standing before him with wounds from battle and attired in armor, a sword in his hand and magic cracking all around him.

“You’re right.”  Thor shook his head, smiling as the scientists and agents ran over to them.  “Agent Barton, that was excellent shooting.”  He complimented honestly.  “As good as any bowman from Asgard to be sure.”

“Thor, Frey.”  Agent Coulson commented.  “I don’t think you’ve been honest with me.”

“You are correct Son of Coul.”  Thor nodded.  “But Amora and Skurge must be taken to Asgard for judgement by my brother, the King-Regent.”

“You can be certain of one thing, Agent Coulson.”  Frey added.  “We are good allies to have,” he gestured between himself, Thor and the Agents.  “All of us fight for the same thing.  The protection of this and all the worlds of the multiverse.”  He smirked.  “But I’m not a fan of bullies.  And I don’t like fighting alongside them.”

“Aye.”  Thor agreed, easily seeing where Frey was going with this.  Both of them were wary of encouraging Dr. Foster’s study.  But in the wake of Amora’s display…they both were canny enough to realize that now those in power in Midgard would never stop searching for a way to even the playing field as it were.  “You should return the good doctor’s research and equipment that you took.”

“Stole.”  Jane frowned at Coulson.

“Borrowed.  Of course.”  Coulson agreed easily.  “You’re going to need it to continue your research.  It won’t do us much good to have an…Asgardian?”

“Aesir.”  Thor and Frey corrected in stereo.

“At least, Thor is…partially.”  Frey continued.

“An Aesir and…?”  He led with the arch of a brow only to get an enigmatic smile from the ebony haired man who was still holding a flaming sword.  “And something _else,_ as our allies if we can’t contact them?”

“Really?”  Frey cracked.  “Because you don’t already have my phone number at my office and cell as well as my address, email, and registered alien number?”

“I don’t quite believe your green card covers super-human from a _possible_ other world, Dr. Black.”  Coulson said drily.  “We’ll have to see about fixing that.”

Frey smirked, eyes dancing before he turned to Thor.

“If they’re here, things are worse on Asgard than I knew.”  He said, turning serious as he banished the two halves of his broken staff back to its spot in his weapons storage with a sigh.  He went through more spears...  “We need to go, Thor.”

“Aye.”  Thor agreed, throwing Skurge over his shoulder as if he weighed nothing, Frey doing the same with Amora.  “We must away.”

Thor gestured for Frey to step into his side, the smaller man hooking his arm around Thor’s neck as the god of Thunder whirled his hammer the two of them flying into the air under the power of Mjolnir.

“Wait!”  Coulson called out.  “You need to be debriefed!”

Frey chuckled a bit at that, waiting for them to be covered by the gathered clouds before taking a deep breath and locking his gaze on Thor’s startling now-otherworldly but natural blue who was staring intently on Frey’s battle-smudge face, lit with humor.

“Ready?”  He asked a bit breathlessly.

Thor nodded, taking a breath of his own.  He’d traveled between worlds with Loki before.  As a result he knew it could be a bit…unpleasant depending on where they were going and how tired Loki was, he assumed it would be the safe for his brother’s son.  Or perhaps grandson, Fenrir and Jormangandr have been roaming the worlds for centuries after all.

Closing his eyes and gathering his power, Frey reached deep for the gift of his father’s line, that which allowed them to travel between worlds and universes alike, and with a crack of power, they were gone.

…

They stumbled a bit on landing, hauling four people through the secret paths known to the Blood of Ymir not a small feat of magic by any means and taking quite a bit of Frey’s magic to manage, especially facing to work around the wards on the Asgard palace and his power being more than a little limited by holding off his Ascension to divinity.

“These are Loki’s rooms.”  Thor commented with a surprised look around them.  “How did you…?”

“Where else in Asgard do you think I’m familiar with?”  Frey asked wearily.  “Besides which, why did you think he wanted to be moved to this _exact_ suite and wing of the palace when he grew up?”

“There’s one of his paths here.”  Thor said, understanding quickly as he hitched Skurge’s dead weight into a more comfortable position.  “I see.  Come.”  He took the lead, marching out into the corridor and making for the main hall it intersects, with knowing that there _should_ be Einherjar close to that point on patrol to take their burdens down to the dungeon.  “Let us see what other happenings have occurred while I have been away.”

“My Prince!”  One of the Einherjar shouted in surprise as Thor and Frey rounded the corner, nearly colliding with the running men.  “You’re back!”

“Yes, I’m back.”  Thor rumbled, slinging Skurge to the ground.  “My exile has been lifted and I returned with a pair of prisoners for the King’s justice.  Where is my brother?”

“My Prince.”  One of the other Einherjar spoke tentatively as the others took possession of the pair, slapping magic bonds on their wrists and in the case of the infamous Amora a gag on her mouth.  “The All-Father and All-Mother were attacked by these two and Lorelei.  King-Loki pursued them and has not yet returned from the Bifrost.”

“Mother?  Father?”  Thor asked frantically.  “How are they?”

“The All-Father is fine, Thor.”  Fandral chimed in as the Warriors Three thundered to a halt behind the Einherjar patrol.  “And the All-Mother was only stricken with minor wounds.  The whole palace was alerted when you returned.”  He told them, eyeing Frey with curiosity.

“And where is my _brother_ , my friends?”  Thor demanded again.  “Where is Loki?  If these cretins came to Midgard – Earth – then _what_ is delaying my brother’s presence when the Queen lies in the healing halls and – as you say – the whole palace was alerted upon my arrival.”

The Warriors Three traded confused glances.

“Thor.”  Hogun said slowly.  “No one has seen Loki-King since he left the Queen in our care and teleported to the Bifrost to pursue Amora to recover Gungnir.”

“Gungnir?”  Frey asked, head snapping up from his relaxed pose searching with his magic for his father’s presence.  “They took Gungnir?”

“Yes, why?”  Fandral asked.

“Because, my friends.”  Thor said with dawning realization as he shared a worried look with Frey.  “They did not have it in their possession on Midgard.”

“Come on, Thor.”  Frey ordered briskly, moving to the closest balcony.  He looked off towards the horizon spotting the Bifrost beginning to move.  “That’s not good.”  He muttered to himself.  “In fact I get the feeling it’s the exact _opposite_ of good.”

Thor nodded grimly, his instincts telling him the same.

“Can you take the Warriors Three with you there, Frey?”  Thor pointed to the Rainbow Bridge just outside the doorway of the observatory.

“Yes.”  Frey blew out a breath.  “But I won’t be able to do it again.  I’m powerful but that much moving around with passengers who have the shear mass of the Aesir is no simple thing after the day we’ve had.”

“Will you be able to fight?”  Volstagg asked the pertinent question gaining himself a snort and an eye roll from the mage in question.

“I’m _always_ able to fight.”  Frey told them with a mocking lift of his brow.  “Are you?”

“Good.”  Thor nodded, already whirling his hammer.  “I’ll meet you there.”

“Try not to be too slow, Thunderer.”  Frey called up at the steadily-rising Thor.  “I’ll make sure and leave you at least a scrap to bludgeon around with your blunt object.”

Thor’s booming laughter surrounded them as Frey held out his arms, instructing the Warriors Three to: “Hold on.  And whatever you do, don’t let go.”

…

“What is it you are after, General?”  Loki asked with-faux idleness as the two of them circled each other in the center of the Bifrost observatory, Hofung clasped tightly in Tyr’s hands as Loki twirled one of his staves.  “Surely you do not imagine that attempting to assassinate the royal family will be well received by the people of Asgard, do you?  Let along the rest of the Nine Realms.”

“The rest of the Nine Realms.”  Tyr repeated back mockingly as he tired of the dance and shot forward with a vicious thrust of Hofung.  “Don’t make me laugh.  Not even Vanaheim would shed a tear for any one of you if it meant ridding themselves of Odin’s yoke.  And those who might mourn will be too distracted trying to keep their own heads on their shoulders once I’ve made it clear that my rule is absolute, just as Odin did before he got _soft_ and started collecting strays.”

“Collecting I’ll grant you.”  Loki responded with a nod, the two of them warriors well able to converse and fight off a torrent of blows at the same time.  “But I would not call myself a stray.”

“Jotnar scum.”  Tyr spat, eyes burning, as rapid strike of Hofung drew blood before Loki responded with a merciless hit to Tyr’s thigh that killed the nerves and deadened the muscle.  “Odin should have dashed your head upon the Casket rather than risk being your foundling stench into the Realm Eternal.”

“All these years and you _still_ cannot see through _all_ of Odin’s machinations.”  Loki tsked, pressing the advantage he’d gained with disabling Tyr’s leg.  “I was no more a foundling than Thor.  My bera Laufey was _more_ than willing to tell me of how I came to be in that temple.  And it had nothing to be with being abandoned and _everything_ to do with being the Crown Prince of Jotunheim.”

“Crown Prince?”  Tyr repeated incredulously before giving a bitter laugh.  “Of _course_ you are.  And at last Odin’s plan becomes clear: a puppet king on Laufey’s throne, a throne denied him since his Jotun-bitch mother refused to let her half-breed spawn undergo the ancient rites of Ymir’s blessing.  And you’d be surprised the things I know of Thor.”

“Really?”  Loki drawled, unimpressed despite taking another heavy blow this time to his side just above his hip.  “Enlighten me.  What secret plot of Odin’s involved his heir?”

“Why.”  Tyr gasped mockingly.  “That he’s no more the son of his _beloved wife_ than _you_ are.”  Tyr sneered.  “A half-Aesir bastard sired on some Midgardian whore of a goddess during his more intemperate years.  It seems, Loki- _King_ , that Frigga had gotten used to loving Odin’s strays long before he laid _your_ sorry carcass in her oh-so-welcoming arms.”

Shocked to his bones, Loki paused, giving Tyr the opening he’d planned on, indeed the very reason he’d shared the tale.

Springing forward he swung Hofung and it connected with a resounding _crack_ to the side of Loki’s head with the flat of the blade.  Tyr didn’t even wait to watch as Loki crumpled, already moving and setting the sword of the Gatekeeper in place as he directed the Bifrost towards a single target: Jotunheim.

“What are you doing?”  Loki asked, blood spilling down his face as he rose slowly back to his feet, one hand braced on the observatory wall.

“Long ago Asgard traded a tense peace with the other realms in exchange for never turning the Bifrost on them.”  Tyr stated bitterly.  “For thousands of years we’ve had the ability to end wars with a single blow and never done it, costing us thousands of Aesir lives out of some sense of _noble war and death_.”  He laughed bitterly.  “Odin and Bor before him locking relics and powerful weapons away like dragons guarding their hoards.  Well.”  Tyr grinned madly, eyes flashing bright blue.  “I mean to change all that.”

“Jotunheim.”  Loki breathed, eyes widening in shock as he saw for himself where Tyr was turning the Bifrost.  “Why Jotunheim?  Why send Amora to Midgard?”

“Ah, saw that did you?”  Tyr said knowingly.  “You always were a sneaky little creature, Loki.  It’s simple.  I lost something on Jotunheim once, because of Odin’s _glorious_ laws of honorable combat.  Something I can never regain.  And when someone gave me the opportunity to take revenge…on them and _him_ …well.”  He smirked.  “It would take a better Aesir than I to turn that chance down.”

“And what, may I ask.”  Loki said slowly, eyes tracking shadows creeping towards the observatory door.  “Was the _price_ for this chance?”

“A pretty bauble of Odin’s.”  Tyr answered nonchalantly with a shrug.  “Amora will retrieve it after she’s done dealing with your brother and his annoying ally.”

“I see.”  And indeed, Loki was beginning to.  But before he could leap forward and lock Tyr away from Hofung, Tyr snatched up Gungnir and shot him with a golden blast directly to the chest, then activated the Bifrost, sending it hurtling towards Jotunheim.  Another blast from the spear welded the mechanism around Hofung’s blade, sealing it in place.

“Brother!”  Thor roared as he saw Loki hit the wall with a sharp crack as he soared into the room, Frey and the Warriors Three rushing in from the Rainbow Bridge, sacrificing stealth for expediency.  “No!”

“Ah.”  Tyr mocked, twirling Gungnir in a mockery of Loki’s signature move.  “The erstwhile Prince returns…too late to be of any good to anyone, even his monstrous enemies.”

“What are you doing, Tyr?”  Thor demanded, drawing all his attention as Frey and the Warriors Three got Vidar and Loki out of the observatory.

Frey looked them over quickly preforming triage.  “Get this one to the healers.”  He commanded Volstagg and Fandral briskly.  “You.”  He pointed at Hogun.  “Go for help.  Whoever Crazy is in there, we’re going to need backup.”

“The Bifrost is a weapon.”  Hogun rushed to explain as he watched the ebony-haired man carefully check Loki’s injuries.  “If it remains open, it will eventually destroy utterly whatever it’s pointed at.”

“Fuck.”  Frey cursed, then waved for Hogun to go.  “Then I suggest you _hurry_.”

Running into the observatory, Frey eyed the massive spikes of power fueling the Bifrost then the power pulsing down the Rainbow Bridge.  “It’s powered from the city.”  He murmured, ignoring the battle going on as Thor and Tyr batted each other around, Thor wielding Mjolnir and Tyr Gungnir, other than to duck blasts from either weapon or a flying body.  Crouching down, he studied the mechanism.

“Frey!”  Thor shouted, “close it!  Close the Bifrost!”

The shouts from Jotunheim were ringing in both of their ears.

“I _can’t_!”  He called back.  “The trigger is welded open!  We need to cut the power!”

“Foolish _child_!”  Tyr laughed manically.  “You _can’t_!  It draws from the Bridge, the same that keeps the Bifrost anchored!  If you break the connection we’ll _all_ die rather than just that Jotnar scum!”

With a roar, Thor blasted Tyr out of the observatory and onto the Bridge, Loki shakily regaining his feet in time to see Tyr go flying and to leap up and grab hold of Gungnir, leaving Tyr to take up the sword at his hip instead, facing Thor without the advantage of a magical weapon.

Loki strode into the observatory and took in the scene at a glance, grabbing Frey by the upper arm and hauling him out of the circular room.

“It’s too late for that.”  He said resolutely.  “It may be the only truth that insane bastard has said in years.  We have no choice now but to bring the Bifrost down.”  Sharp green eyes met their doubles, father and son staring at one another with grim purpose.  “Together.”

“Together.”  Frey echoed, drawing Magefire as Loki firmed his grip on Gungnir.  “You blast it, I cut it?”

“Yes.”  Loki nodded, knowing better than any the design of the Bifrost and Bridge.  “Under the crystalline structure is a type of energy cord.  I’ll break through the protective casing with Gungnir, you sever the cords.  We’ll have to be quick.”  He warned, words tripping over themselves with none of his usual elegance.  “With the amount of power the Bifrost is pulling it should make quite the bang.”

Loki aimed for the almost imperceptible seam where the crystal bridge met the golden dome of the observatory, gathering his power and discharging nearly all of it in a massive burst of power that was felt throughout all the Realms.  Frey popped forward, drawing on his magical core as his Jotnar abilities were nearly exhausted, apparating a mere moment behind the blast and raising Magefire, bringing it down in a mighty blow directly on the exposed filaments hidden beneath the broken crystal.  The first blow rang through Asgard, the sharp peel of the backlashing power woke all who slept and startled those awake, drawing all eyes towards the Bifrost.  The second had the Bifrost faltering.

But the third completed the task, and Loki was right.

The backlash of the connection being sundered was massive, blowing back all four of those on the bridge, Thor having finally knocked out Tyr and turned at the first blow of Magefire on the Bifrost.

And they fell.

Frey, knowing it was coming, managed to apparate to a spot several yards behind Thor, wobbling a bit on his feet as the shockwaves knocked him to his knees.

All he could do is watch in horror as Thor, Tyr, and his father all went flying.

Tyr landed on one of the jagged rocks that clung to the edge of the Asgardian sea, while Thor and Loki were sure to go over the edge.

That was, until, Thor grabbed hold of the very edge of the broken bridge, while Loki barely grasped Gungnir where it dangled, barely wedged into the broken Bifrost over the Void.

Woken from his Sleep, Odin appeared at the broken edge, looking over at the two hanging down and leaned forward grasping Thor’s arm as an exhausted Loki felt his vision go black and lost his hold of the spear, falling endlessly over the edge of the bridge and into the Void.

Odin hauled Thor to his feet, the blond god staring dazed with grief at where his brother had hung mere moments before, then his head snapped around at a wordless scream of rage, remembering who _else_ was there with them on the bridge.

“Why would you do that, Father?”  Thor asked bewildered.  “I had Mjolnir…I could have saved myself!  Why didn’t you help Loki?”  Couldn’t he have seen that his brother had been exhausted from the battles of this day?  That they _all_ were?

“He’s gone, Thor.”  Odin told him dismissively.  “That’s the end of it.”

“Oh no, All-Father.”  A silky, rage drenched voice seethed from behind them, the pair turning and facing a glowing Frey as daggers appeared in his hands in a flash of dark light.  “Please.  Tell your _beloved son_ why you saved _him_ and not his brother, won’t you?  I am most _anxious_ to hear your answer for myself.”

…

Odin turned his eye upon the upstart who challenged him, easily brushing off his impulsive son.

“And who are _you_ to question the King of Asgard?”

“Who am I?”  Frey’s voice was soft with danger as in his exhausted – in every way possible – rage he breeched the wall he’d been ever-vigilant to keep between himself and his godhood, the well-spring of his divine power, to prevent himself from claiming it and calling the inevitable attention to himself that such a surge draws as he stepped forward fully into his drawn Fate as an empowered god.

Shadows and light swirled around him, dark light – if one could grasp or see such a thing – tangled with the bright green of his magic and the icy silver of his Jotnar heritage, as those who felt it, a new god Ascending, appeared into view and bore witness as Frey spoke as if compelled his powers and dominion riding him hard.

“I am Frey.”  His voice was resounding, filling every ear within and without Asgard and Jotunheim, reverberating so far and wide throughout the vesting of the All that it was heard in his origin universe, bringing a smile to a centaur teaching a group of demigods archery and a god of sun and prophecy was heard to laugh in delighted glee whilst the cupbearer of Zeus poured out a particularly fine vintage in celebration, enjoined by his Kingly lover.  “Son of James.  Son of Lily.  Son of _Loki_ of the Blood of Ymir.  Legacy of Thanatos the Avatar of Death.  Called the Warrior-Mage, the Greatest Hero of the Age.  Slayer of the Titans Atlas and Hyperion and Kronus.  Wielder of the Sword Magefire.  Yggdrasil _God_ of Darkness and Shadow.”  He panted in fury and power, as he restrained himself from claiming all that there was within his grasp to take.  There was more, much more.  But no one should have so much power as that at their fingertips.  His… _encounters_ of various design with Zeus, Kronus, Odin, and Gaea having taught him that much.  “ _That_ is who I am.”

“And Avatar of Chaos.”  Another voice broke the silence that rang in the wake of his Claiming, all eyes turning to the figure wreathed in green and purple and black flames, who felt of danger and mischief and above all _change_.  None could say whether it was male or female, but if pressed would claim him male.

There was no need to ask who it was, all knew as Chaos Himself stood among lesser gods and immortals for the first time in living memory.

“Should you accept the charge.”  Chaos continued.  “Born of one of mine, never have I seen a creature who so embodies the aspect of _change_ than Loki son of Laufey, save for his own son in turn.  Yggdrasil is in danger of falling into stasis and decay.  Change is needed.  _Chaos_ is needed.  Do you accept this charge, Frey, son of Loki, Yggdrasil god of Darkness and Shadow?”

“I accept.”  Frey said, kneeling and bowing his head in obedience to the Primordial, perhaps the eldest of all beings within the All of Existence.  “I shall serve as the Avatar and Living embodiment of Chaos for the paired ‘verses of Yggdrasil and the Universe Cosmic.  So mote it be.”

“So mote it be.”  Chaos murmured, as the power that had been wreathing him darted forward and encompassed the kneeling form of his newest Avatar.

Power that saw Frey lifted high into the air, writhing in silent pain as his magical pathways were seared clean and made anew in Chaos’s own imagining before setting him down as gently as a lover welcoming him into their arms with the breath of a kiss.

Crouching he kneeled, balancing on his toes and the tips of his fingers as he acclimated to the double influx of strange powers, his eyes glowing as his eyes snapped up to meet the single eye of Odin, ignoring those who had gathered to bear witness to his Ascension to the divinity of Yggdrasil, Chaos himself disappearing as invisibly as he’d come now that his work was done…for the moment.

“Now.”  He rasped from a voice recently flayed from his screams that were blocked from others’ ears by Chaos’s own doing.  “I ask again, Odin Borsson.  _Why_ did you allow my father, Loki son of Laufey, Yggdrasil god of Chaos and Mischief, Avatar of Magic to fall into the Void?”

Odin stared at him furiously before turning in a clear dismissal, Frey rising to his feet to face off against the All-Father as he berated Thor.

“What were you thinking?”  Odin demanded.  “Bringing that _creature_ here?  Your brother will be punished most dearly for daring to disobey my orders and siring a child…if he can be found.”

“I think you’re missing the point, All-Father.”  Laufey’s voice rang as the tall figure cut through the crowd clogging the remnants of the Rainbow Bridge.  “Loki is now the acknowledged Crown Prince and Heir of Jotunheim.  They _know_ , I _know,_ Odin.  There is no more hiding it.”

“Father?”  Thor asked weakly, staring between Laufey and Odin, Frey’s so-familiar and so-foreign face catching his eye as he couldn’t help but compare his to Laufey’s and clearly seeing the resemblance both to each other and the now-lost Loki.  “Father is it true what they say?  That Loki is truly Laufey’s son?”

“Yes, it’s true.”  Frigga spoke as Fandral helped her come to the edge of the ruined Bifrost.  “Odin brought Loki to me as he returned from Jotunheim.  Though I never knew _who_ Loki’s parents were, I was told he was a foundling.”

“He is – or was – born of Laufey.”  Odin admitted at last, knowing there was no way any denials would be allowed and simply trying to salvage what he could from this wreck of a situation.  “And Crown Prince of Jotunheim.”

“And as such.”  Frey hissed viciously, eyes narrowed.  “You had no _place_ to forbid him from siring children.  Your words are meaningless _All-Father_ when it comes to the fate of _my_ father.  He is the sole concern of Jotunheim now.”

“No, we will search for him.”  Thor told him resolutely, staring down his father without flinching.  “Loki is yet my brother.  No mere words will take away thousands of years of brotherhood, love, and companionship, this I swear upon Mjolnir.”

Laufey nodded elegantly.  “I see the banishment my child spoke of has done you much good, Thunderer.”  Laufey allowed, offering their arm to Frigga and bringing her and Thor over to the still form of Frey, leaving Odin to stand at the edge of the world and seethe.  “Frigga of Vanaheim, Thor Odinson, allow me to introduce my grandbarn, Frey child of Loki.”

“Greetings, Friend Frey.”  Thor beamed down at him.  “I _knew_ you had to be Loki’s.”  He laughed joyously, firm in his belief that they would find his brother.  “There was no one else you could be.”

Frey rolled his eyes in a mimic of his father, complete with a sarcastic: “Oaf.”

“Frey.”  Frigga breathed, tears sparkling in her eyes.  “Oh, you are so beautiful, my child.  I know not whether Loki will still accept me as his mother nor as your grandmother but I would be… _gladdened_ to be claimed as such.  He _is_ my son, for all that he has another’s blood.”

He lifted one hand with a soft smile, stroking a finger down a familiar diamond and sapphire diadem.  “I knew it would suit you, _grandmother._ ”

…

“Your husband has no idea the depth of the mistake he made this night, my bittersweet sister.”  Freyr, King of Vanaheim warned her as they watched, Hogun standing guard at her side, as Frey greeted those who had come to bear witness to his rising to the ranks of the gods of Yggdrasil.

Many of those who had come were from far-off realms and universes, surprising many of the Yggdrasil gods and goddesses who weren’t familiar with who Frey was and where he’d been raised.

One such visitor currently had his arm slung around Frey’s waist, Apollo whispering something into Frey’s ear as they spoke with Apollo’s brother Hermes, both representatives of the Olympian pantheon as Thanatos looked on indulgently, the appearance of the Avatar of Death having surprised no one in the wake of Frey’s revelation of being one of his legacy children.

Really, with her grandson’s heritage it was no surprise he’d been born to be a god, she mused as she echoed his earlier actions and fingered her diadem, one of her favorites ever since he’d offered it up to her as tribute years ago.

Though the appearance of Calypso from one of the wilder universes startled many with her dreadlocks and shell necklace as she simply traded stares with Frey before nodding once, gracing him with a grudging curtsey before disappearing in a whirlwind.

“I know, dear brother.”  Frigga told him with a glance from under her lashes.  “I See that this is _one_ enemy that will not fall under Odin’s boot.  Though whether that is for good or ill, even I do not know.  Loki’s fall is not a betrayal either Avatar will soon forget, no matter how long it takes my son to return to us from the Void.”

…

Days later, Frigga stared out over the golden roofs of Asgard, eyes unseeing as she Saw something, her fingers busy with the weaving that rested on her lap.

“How is he?”  She asked Hogun, her oldest friend and companion, he who vowed to follow her anywhere, though neither of them expected in those days of the first flush of youth and innocence just _where_ that vow would lead them both.

“He mourns.”  Hogun the Grim answered her, coming to stand at her side, resting one callused hand on her shoulder for a brief forbidden moment.  “And he searches for his brother.”

“Loki will be found.”  Frigga said with the sure certainty of a Seeress that _knows_.  “Let us all pray to the Norns that his son will have returned by then.”

Frey had left Asgard behind, venturing off somewhere after meeting with a man of Midgard for parts beyond even Frigga’s or Vidar’s Sight.

When or even if he would return after his explosive confrontation with the All-Father was on all their minds.

“What do you see, My Queen?”

“Darkness, old friend.”  Frigga said voice stark and eyes bleak.  “I See darkness.”


	8. Epilogue

** The Frost Prince **

_Author’s Note:_ This is the last installment of this portion of the Frey of Asgard series.  If you’re interested in the “vacation” Draco suggests at the end of this chapter, I will post it under the _How to Train Your Godling_ collection of one-shots once I go back over the “vacation” and fix a few things.  There will _also_ be a story involving Thor and a misadventure he has while Loki is MIA.

**Epilogue – Debriefing and Decompressing**

Agent Phil Coulson typed away at his secured laptop in the comfort of his Georgetown brownstone, Clint out on another assignment and leaving Phil with the clean-up of the New Mexico operation and the follow-up paperwork for Natasha’s insertion with Tony Stark and the outcome of the whole Vanko/Hammer debacle.

The minute tensing of his hands on the keys and the tightening of his shoulders was the only sign of his shock and startlement as a figure appeared out of thin air in the comfortable armchair on the other side of his desk where Clint liked to perch when he came to bother Phil while avoiding his own paperwork and reports.

“Dr. Black.”  Phil nodded, voice mild.

“Agent Coulson.”  A small smile twitched at the corner of that lush mouth.  “I believe you mentioned something about a debriefing…”

“Yes.”  Phil answered as he took out his tablet and opened up the apps he needed in an echo of his actions in the hotel dining room mere days before.  “Yes I did.  I must admit, Dr. Black, I’m surprised.  I didn’t think I’d be seeing either of you again after your dramatic exit.”

“Couldn’t figure out how we left could you?”  Frey asked, with a smirk tugging at his mouth.

“No.”  Phil almost allowed himself to scowl.  “No we couldn’t.  There were none of the same atmospheric readings as Dr. Foster expected.  And then there were massive discrepancies in readings of every kind all over the globe, which spiked several times, but never any evidence of what or who caused them.  The scientific and intelligence communities are having kittens.”

“I would apologize.”  Frey said with a shrug.  “For their distress, however, with the state of things in the Nine Realms after we left Earth, there was nothing that could have been done to avoid the effects that those events had on Earth.  Now,” he made a file appear to Phil’s surprise, his eyebrows flying up his forehead.  “To expedite matters, I’ve supplied you – and SHIELD – with a sort of “who’s who” in the Nine Realms.”

“This doesn’t seem very complete.”  Phil said after several moments reading.  “And it doesn’t account for all of the other realms from what I can tell.”

“No, it doesn’t.”  Frey said unapologetically.  “Just those Earth is likely to come into contact with, realistically.  The dwarves are notoriously xenophobic, content with their smithing and hoarding on Nidavellir.  And the Norns deal with no one.”

“I don’t see your name on this list, either.”  Phil noted, tapping the open file with one finger.  “You don’t _honestly_ expect anyone to believe you’re anything but _otherworldly_ after that display in New Mexico, not to mention your appearance here despite all of my security.”

“No, I don’t.”  Frey gave a soft laugh.  “But I’m not in the habit of revealing secrets – either my own or those belonging to anyone else.  Everything there is commonly-held information as of this morning in the Nine Realms, on most of the major players as it were.  With Thor’s rather _excited_ stories about the wonders of Earth’s inventions and how the people have advanced so much in the last thousand years, congratulations, you’re officially on the universal map as something more than a backwards backwater protectorate of Asgard.”

“Joy.”  Phil said wryly.  “Just what I was hoping to hear tonight.”  He frowned.  “Why were we a protectorate of Asgard if they all see us as so far beneath them?”

“Ah.”  Frey smiled, tapping a finger on the knee of his crossed leg.  “That’s rather the pertinent question.  And the answer is both very simple and very complicated.”

“I’ll hear both then, simple first if you please then feel free to get as complex as you like.”  Phil sat back, getting comfortable.  “I’ll do my best to keep up.”

“I’m sure you’ve looked up the mythology of the Nine Realms by now.”  Frey told him waving one hand.  “So I won’t get into all that.  The linchpin of the whole affair revolves around the differences between various universes and multiverses.  There’s those like the Yggdrasil universe which operates in a metaphysical plane and those like the Cosmic universe that operate purely on the physical plane.”

Phil leaned forward, bracing his arms on the desk in front of him.  “You’re talking about magic versus technology.  Not just the Arthur C. Clarke explanation either.  Actual myth made real.”

“Yes.”  Frey said simply.  “Care to take a stab at where I’m going with this?”

“Nine Realms.”  Phil sighed, rubbing his hands over his face.  “In the Yggdrasil universe.  But Earth is part of a galaxy vast, among other vast galaxies in the wider universe…Cosmic was it?  I find it hard to believe after recent revelations that we’re the _only_ planet with sentience in all that space.”

“That’s right, you’re not.”  Frey smiled.  “Welcome to the _real_ playing field.  One where Earth occupies a place of extremely _valuable_ strategic real estate: half in the Universe Cosmic and half in Yggdrasil.  A gateway, if you would.”

“A gateway.”  Phil groaned.  “And let me guess, we were a protectorate to keep that gate from opening wide and allowing access to whatever is out in physical space from entering the metaphysical realm of Yggdrasil, right?”

“In a nutshell, yes.”  Frey shrugged.  “Asgard, Vanaheim, Alfheim, Jotunheim, and the other realms all have valuable resources that can’t be found in the physical universe.  Objects of great power, materials for crafting unique weapons and machines, it’s the stuff of literal legends.”

“And we are all that stands between the two.”  Phil said.  “But we’re safe because the All-Father says so?”

“Not even close.”  Frey laughed.  “More like because if even _one_ of the other realms made a move to annex Earth the others would band together to crush them, it’s what happened to both the Dark Elves and the Jotnar, neither of which has recovered from the consequences of their attempts.  And they’d repeal other invaders just as harshly…to protect the gateway.”

“But not necessarily the people, _us_ , who call it home.”

“Now you’re starting to understand just how precarious a situation mankind _enjoys_ in the Nine Realms and the Universe Cosmic.”  Frey nodded, with a grin.

“Jesus.”  Phil shook his head.  “The World Security Council is going to go crazy pushing for anything that stands a chance against enemies we can’t even begin to imagine.”

“I’d be careful with that.”  Frey warned him immediately as he climbed to his feet and turned away, speaking over his shoulder.  “Earth is already dancing on a knife’s edge due to playing with powers beyond them during World War II, specifically the weapons HYDRA was engineering and Captain America.  There’s two forms of war in most of the rest of the universes: highly effective soldiers either due to birth or engineering and weapons capable of fighting them or sheer mass destruction – which almost _every_ other people out there have but don’t use for pure cost-versus-waste analysis.  If Earth delves too quickly into the depths of the abyss, the abyss will notice it and worse: start to look _back_.  Be careful SHIELD doesn’t bite off more than they can chew in a panic over a couple of off-worlders smacking each other around and a couple of craters in the New Mexico desert.”

“I’ll forward your advice to my superiors.”  Phil said sardonically, even as he knew it was likely to be discarded, then offered: “We loaded up your affects from the hotel and your SUV and had them dropped off at your apartment in Boston.  For _some reason_ , the agents weren’t able to get any closer than your parking garage.”

Frey just smirked and melted into the shadows, leaving Coulson to stand and inspect the corner for a moment before going back to his desk.

He had a report to clean up and send to Nick.

…

_Olympian Universe, Wiltshire, England, Earth_

Draco Malfoy came up behind a brooding Frey and lightly shoulder checked him, jerking the other man from his reverie as he stared off into nothing…or something that only a god can see.

He’d noticed it as soon as his former-lover had shown up.

The grief, yes, but also the intoxicating _power_ that Frey had yet to learn to keep in check the way he’d learned how to pull in his magical core, pull his punches, and later bond with the Deathly Hallows.

Frey had finally taken his place among the gods, as he’d been born to do.

And judging by the brood-fest he’d been wallowing in for the last two weeks after their children, now in their sixth year, had gone off to school, Frey was _not_ pleased by the circumstances that precipitated him taking that final step into the world he was meant to inhabit and away from his family in this world.

Oh, he’d still visit, still be the incredible father that he’d always been.

But now there was a part of him that they simply couldn’t touch.

What was more, all of them knew it, even the children with all of their worldly-wise-sixteen-year-old selves.

Beyond that, Draco knew time passed quicker here than it did in the world Frey was meant for, the man had explained it to him once, when he’d asked about all the extras that he and his father had put into the pocket watch that Frey carried at all times.

He’d had a scare once, Frey.

Been caught up in a vengeful goddess’s working and trapped in another world, without knowing if he’d ever make it back to that of his birth or see his children again.

It had left a deep scar on Frey’s heart, those two-hundred and fifty years of simply not _knowing_.

Coming home and finding only a matter of days had passed had been a blessing and a salve to the wound, but it’d never fully healed.

Now Loki was missing and Frey had no way to find him.

Something that was sure to dredge all that grief and worry and anxiety back to the forefront of his mind.

And Merlin knew, no good would come from having an anxious Avatar of Chaos running amok in _any_ universe.

“You need to go away.”  Draco told him after several long moments.  “Take a vacation somewhere.”

“Go away?”  Frey asked arching a brow.  “When I just got back and my father’s missing?  Nice try.”

“I’m serious, Frey.”  Draco insisted.  “I’m not talking about visiting your relatives on Jotunheim or keeping an eye on that Earth.  I mean finding a world where time passes so fast compared to here or there that you can live a lifetime and not miss a moment.  You need to get some distance from all this, some perspective.  Have you even _tried_ to get a handle on your new powers or are you hoping to sulk it out and hope for the best?”  He asked with the acerbic tongue he’d learned at his godfather Severus’s knee along with potionmaking and the spy’s masks.

Frey scowled at that reminder.

“I’m telling you _go_.”  Draco insisted.  “Now, while you can.  You’ve said yourself that your father is alive but that no one can find him right?”

“No, they can’t.”  Frey sighed.  “Lady Magic might be able to but trying to find one of the primordials and ask for a boon isn’t _exactly_ the wisest of ideas.  Wherever he is, it’s somewhere I can’t reach him, or even get but the faintest hint of his being alive.”

“Then?”  Draco asked.  “What’s the issue?  You go, get your powers under control and your head on straight and then you come back and are ready to go kick ass the second you get a ping on his location.  You won’t do anyone much good, let alone your missing father, if you’re too strung out to fight.”

“Maybe.”  Frey sighed.  “Maybe you’re right.  It just feels…”

“Like you’re giving up on him?”  Draco hazarded a guess, snorting in derision.  “No one who has _ever_ seen you with Loki would believe that.  He’s your dad.  And you love him.  He would be _more_ upset over you lapsing into atrophy than he would over you going to some universe and kicking ass or getting a degree in underwater basket weaving.”

With that Frey titled his head back with a laugh, and Draco felt a sense of relief at the sight.

Yeah.  Loki may be missing.  But Frey was waiting and would do so for eons if that was what it took for him to find him and bring him home.

And come what may, their family would be okay.

Even if that meant that one of the cornerstones of it – the indomitable pair of Frey-and-Loki – became more visitors and less central bedrocks to count on.

They all knew this day would come.

To Draco’s bemusement…he rather thought _he_ would miss the pair popping in every night for mischief or guiding the nearly-grown triplets more than his children would, having had Frey to himself for so very long, even when he had to share him – and himself – with others.

Frey’s youth was Draco.

What Frey’s future would be remained to be seen.

Part of him – a selfish, petty part – was _glad_ that he was likely to never live to see it, to have to meet whoever it was that would manage to burrow fully into that wary heart and steal it away.

They’d have to be canny and cunning, Frey was too practiced and jaded to _give_ his heart the way he gave so freely with his time and affection.

Another part of Draco…honestly couldn’t wait for it.

So long as he got to bear witness to at least _part_ of Frey’s final fall.


End file.
